The Kingdom of Stags and Wolves
by Dovah-wolfbear64
Summary: 20 years have passed since Robert's Rebellion. Now the King's children find themselves playing the game of thrones. No Jamie Lannister (see chapter 1 for slightly longer summery), so Robert's children are trueborn. Despite this it's not all sunshine and daisies. Enemies rise all over. Will the new dynasty rise further, or will it fall in its infancy? Disclaimer; I own nothing.
1. Chapter 1

A Game of Thrones Fan-fiction

Author's Note:

This GoT fan-fiction is set in an Alternative Universe where Robert Baratheon has true-born children with his wife and queen, Cersei Lannister. For my story there are many changes. Some changes will become apparent as the story progresses, but for now I shall make some changes known right now, as well as some other important things for readers to know.

The White Walkers will not make an appearance in this story. For the purposes of this story they are still slumbering in the far northern reaches of the Lands of Always Winter. The White Walkers will not be a threat and it will be many decades/centuries before they return to Westeros.

Jon Snow is the son of Eddard Stark and Ashara Dayne, and is older than Robb by about two or three months. His true mother is known to the Starks and so there is no animosity towards Jon on Catlyn's part, but their relationship is more awkward aunt and nephew than mother and son (so basically Jon and Catlyn are a touch OOC in this story).

Daenerys Targaryen is the last of her House as her brother died before he could marry her off to Khal Drogo. Her whereabouts are unknown to everyone, but we will find out later on during the story what has become of her.

Jamie Lannister died at the end of Robert's Rebellion when he was attacked by Aerys Targaryen's soldiers after he shoved his sword into the Mad King's back and slit his throat. He was found dying by Ned Stark, and told him why he did what he did. Although Ned hated that Ser Jamie deprived him of his justice he has some respect for the man for doing what he did and telling him of the wildfire scattered beneath the city. This is why Robert's children are true-born.

The story starts twenty years after Robert's Rebellion, so character ages are different than in the show/books.

The list below will show some of the characters in this story, along with their titles and (where known) ages, starting off with House Baratheon of Kings Landing:

 **House Baratheon of Kings Landing**

Robert Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhonyar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm (late 30's)

Cersei Baratheon nee Lannister, Queen of the Realm (late 30's)

Silas Baratheon, Crown Prince and Heir to the Iron Throne (19) (oc)

Cassana Baratheon, Princess of Kings Landing (17) (oc)

Joffrey Baratheon, Prince of Kings Landing (15)

Myrcella Baratheon, Princess of Kings Landing (13)

Tommen Baratheon, Prince of Kings Landing (11)

Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the King's Guard (mid-to-late sixties)

Ser Lukas Storm, Sworn Shield of the Crown Prince (31) (oc)

 **House Stark of Winterfell**

Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North and Hand of the King (late 30's)

Catlyn Stark nee Tully, Lady of Winterfell (mid-to-late 30's)

Robb Stark, Heir to Winterfell (20)

Sansa Stark (16)

Arya Stark (14)

Brandon Stark (13)

Rickon Stark (9)

Jon Snow, Bastard of Winterfell (20)

Jory Cassel, Captain of the Household Guard (mid-to-late 30's)

And so we shall begin with the story. Other characters will be introduced as time goes on, some canon and some new. Quick disclaimer; I do not own 'A Song of Ice and Fire' or the TV series adaptation 'Game of Thrones', they are the property of GRRM and HBO.

* * *

 **Chapter One**

Silas Baratheon

The road to Winterfell was long and cold. Silas sat atop his horse with a heavy cloak over his shoulders. The heir to the Iron Throne was riding alongside his father Robert Baratheon, the King of all of Westeros. Silas has been the Crown Prince since the day of his birth, but if his father had not rebelled against the Targaryens twenty years ago then he would instead be the future Lord of Storms End. His mother would have been different as well. His father was to marry Lady Lyanna Stark of Winterfell, the younger sister of Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell and Robert's best friend. Silas has met the Warden of the North a few times. The first time he was eight, and he had travelled to the North as part of his education as suggested by old Jon Arryn, the late Hand of the King. He had lived in Winterfell for several months and had gotten on well with Lord Stark and his family. He was looking forward to meeting Robb and Jon, whom he had made good friends with during his time in Winterfell. Although he was excited to return after his last visit three years ago he was nervous. The royal trip to the North was not just to try and convince Lord Stark to become the new Hand, but to arrange marriages as well.

The journey had taken five weeks already, but was thankfully nearing its end. Silas knew that Winterfell was not that far away, but the closer they got the further it seemed. As they reached the top of a small hill Silas heard his father snort.

"We'd have been there by now if it weren't for your mother and her bloody wheelhouse," Robert Baratheon snarled, his voice full of impatience. "I've a mind to set the damn thing alight once we get there." Silas smirked at his father's words.

"You find the best spot, and I'll grab an axe or twelve," Silas japed. Robert looked at his son and began to laugh.

"We'll have plenty of kindling for the feast that Ned will surely throw for us," he laughed. Silas laughed alongside his father. As they laughed they heard a familiar voice singing behind them.

" _Yes now the rains weep o'er his halls, and not a soul to hear_ ," the voice sang, somewhat poorly. Silas turned to be greeted by the face of his younger brother Joffrey. Both brothers could barely stand one another. They were alike in terms of looks, as both boys shared the same Baratheon characteristics, namely the coal black hair and stormy blue eyes that their father had. But despite that they were very different. Joffrey was a bully and a coward, and preferred to hunt with a crossbow. He was also useless with any weapon that was for use in close combat. He also had his black hair long and curly, almost like a girl as Silas once told him. By comparison Silas always had his black hair cropped short like his Uncle Stannis. He was more of a true Baratheon as he used a long bow for hunting and could use any weapon in close combat, be it a spear, axe, mace or even hammer. But Silas always preferred to use the sword, which he was skilled with, being almost as good as Barristan the Bold, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, who has trained Silas since he was old enough to carry a sword. Both also dressed differently as well. Silas wore his father's colours of black and gold, with a black crowned stag on yellow field embroidered on the doublet that he was currently wearing. Joffrey however wore their mother's colours of red and gold, the colours of House Lannister. This was one of many things that annoyed Silas as he felt that Joffrey was being disrespectful to their father's House.

"Afternoon Joff," Silas said through gritted teeth. The younger Baratheon had his trademark smirk on his face.

"Why good afternoon Silas," he said. "How are you today? A fine day thus far, isn't it?" Silas rolled his eyes as his brother spoke. Joffrey's whiny voice always annoyed him. He was about to answer when their father interrupted.

"Joffrey, be a good lad and go find your sisters," he said. "Tell them that I want them to ride up through Winterfell's gates when we arrive."

"I'm sure they wouldn't want to catch a cold father. It is rather chilly today," he replied. Silas clenched his teeth, fighting the urge to punch his younger brother's face in.

"That wasn't a suggestion boy," Robert snapped. "Go and find them, NOW!" Joffrey winced at his father's bellowing voice and turned his horse around, doing as his father commanded. "That boy really pisses me off," Robert said when Joffrey was out of ear shot.

"That makes two of us father," Silas said. "When we burn the wheelhouse, can I throw Joffrey onto the pile?" Robert looked at his eldest son with a hard look.

"And make kinslayers out of us?" he barked. Silas gave his father a toothy grin before he responded.

"I'm sure the gods would forgive us in regards to Joffrey," he said. After a few moments Robert's face broke into a wide smile. Father and son rode beside one another, laughing as they did.

An hour of riding had gone by when they had finally sighted Winterfell. Silas felt a sense of contentment when he laid eyes on the ancestral seat of House Stark. As the royal party neared the ancient castle Silas found himself joined by his sworn shield, Ser Lukas Storm. The knight has been Silas's companion for the last eleven years. He has travelled the Seven Kingdoms with him ever since he was assigned to him as his sworn shield. The man was a bastard of the Stormlands, whose father was a minor lord. Silas forgets who the man's father was, and Lukas himself does not care for him either.

"There it is my prince," Ser Lukas said as he brought his horse up alongside Silas's own horse. "How long has it been since we were last here?"

"Three years now," he responded. The two men sat atop of their horses, waiting for the rest of the royal party to arrive, as they had ridden ahead of them.

"Not as bleak as Joffrey makes it out to be," Cassana said from behind them. Silas turned around to look at his sister. Cassana Baratheon was two years younger than Silas, and was perhaps the most beautiful young lady that Silas had ever known, aside from their mother Cersei and young Sansa Stark. Beside her was the youngest girl, Myrcella. Both wore dresses of black and gold, proudly bearing the black crowned stag sigil of their father's house. They both also had long black hair and blue eyes. Myrcella had her curly black hair loose over her shoulders, while Cassana's own black hair was tied up into a braid more reminiscent of a northern lady's style than a southern lady's. _How appropriate,_ Silas thought.

"Well we can never believe a word that Joffrey utters now, can we Cass?" Myrcella said as the girls rode closer to Silas. "Half of what come out of his mouth is utter shit anyway." Lukas stares wide-eyed at the younger princess while Silas raises an eye brow.

"And since when does a princess of the Seven Kingdoms speak in such a vulgar manner?" Silas asks with a mock stern voice that only makes Myrcella giggle. Cassana sniggers before she responds.

"Since the day mother pushed me out Silas," she said. Silas rolls his eyes at his sister's response. "That wasn't very princely now, was it?" Silas shrugs his shoulders in response to Cassana. As they talked their father rode up to them.

"Okay then, here's what's going to happen," he said drawing their attention. "Silas shall ride at the head of the party with Ser Lukas as always, as well as Sers Boros and Meryn. Joffrey will be at the rear of the party with The Hound, which is where the little runt is now." Silas and the girls laughed. "Myrcella, you shall ride behind your brother at the head, with Ser Arys beside you. Cassana, you'll be with me and the other three Kingsguard."

"Oh joy," Cassana replied with a little sarcasm in her voice.

"Careful now young lady," Robert said. "Or do you want to go home stuck in the carriage with your mother for company the whole trip?"

"Ugh, no thanks, I'd rather stay here," she said, prompting her father to bark out with laughter.

"Well, it's just as bloody well that you're marrying Ned's lad then," he roared. Silas cringed at his father's joyful proclamation. While Cassana and Robb had been betrothed for a couple of years now Silas was still a little bit uncomfortable with the idea of those two being together for the rest of their lives. He has regarded Robb as something of a brother, so it will take some getting used to the idea of him being a brother-by-law.

"When you're ready father," Silas said.

"What? Oh, yes of course," Robert muttered. "Right, let's get going then, shall we?"

* * *

Robb Stark

 _Robb and Silas laughed as they embraced each other in a brotherly hug. It was Robb's first time in King's Landing, and the first time he would meet the King, Robert Baratheon, his own father's best friend. Robb had travelled down with his brother Bran as well as Jory and a couple of dozen of his father's guardsmen. They had travelled along the King's Road for the better part of three weeks for the tourney being held in honour of Princess Cassana's fourteenth nameday. Upon arrival they had been met by Ser Lukas Storm, who Silas sent ahead to greet them to the capital. They were now stood inside the Red Keep, where Silas stood with Ser Barristan Selmy, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard._

 _"It's good to see you Robb," Silas said when they broke their embrace. "Is Jon not with you?" Robb looked at his friend with a slightly grim expression._

 _"He didn't want to take part in the tourney. Some nonsense about risking offending your father with his presence," he said. Silas rolled his eyes._

 _"My sworn shield is a bastard, or has your mother forgotten that?" he asked. Robb laughed slightly._

 _"My mother was more worried about your mother than your father," Robb countered, which was true. While they did not always get along, Robb knew that his mother has a lot of respect for Jon, despite him being his father's bastard by the Lady Ashara Dayne. Jon knew that he had little to look forward to, being a bastard, but he had no reason to leave Winterfell. Robb's mother and Jon got along quite well most of the time, even if they had their awkward moments. Still, Robb had been a little bit disappointed by Jon not wanting to come down to King's Landing, and it seemed that Silas was also disappointed as well._

 _"Ah well, never mind, just means that you don't have to fight him in the melee," he said light heartedly. "You are taking part in the melee, right?" Robb smiled at his friend._

 _"Damn right I am," he said as they walked to the Throne room, where Robb saw the King for the first time. He had been surprised to see the man before him. This man whom Robb was named in honour of was fat, nothing like the broad shouldered warrior that his father had spoken of. He had a long beard (that no doubt hid his many chins) that matched the hair on his head both in length and in colour. His eyes were a stormy blue, and seemed full of laughter, and a touch of sadness, or so Robb thought. "Is that your father?" he asked Silas in a hushed tone after he had finished speaking with Bran. Silas laughed quietly._

 _"Aye it is," he said. "I know, not what you'd expect from our good and gracious King." Silas laughed quietly as they neared the King. The closer they got the more nervous Robb felt. When finally they were a couple of feet away Robb had to fight the nerves that threatened to take over. Silas cleared his throat before he started to talk. The King turned around as he heard Silas clearing his throat. "Father, allow me to introduce my friend, young Robb of the House Stark, and his little brother, Brandon." Robb and Bran both bowed to the King when he regarded them, his face looking like a storm._

 _"Your grace," Robb said nervously, with Bran parroting him. He could have sworn that Silas was trying (and failing) to hold back a laugh. Before Robb could even think of glaring at his friend King Robert's face broke into a wide smile._

 _"You're Ned's lads then, are you?" he asked, his voice friendly. Robb nodded his head. "I must say neither of you look anything like Starks, but I suppose that is a good thing, right? I may love your father like a brother, but gods he looks far too bloody grim half the time with that frozen Stark face of his." He looked at both boys for a time before he focussed on Robb. "Silas tells me that you are quite good with a sword." Robb swallowed nervously._

 _"I am your grace. My lord father tells me that I'm just as skilled as he was when he was my age," he answered. Robert laughed loudly._

 _"Oh gods, if that's how good you are then you should be glad that I won't be taking part in the melee," he said as he patted Robb on the back. "So tell me, will you be fighting in the melee, or shall you be trying your luck at the joust?"_

 _"The melee your grace. I'd much prefer something more akin to actual combat," he said. The King straightened his back before he responded._

 _"My choice as well," he replied. "And have you been in an actual life or death fight?" Robb flinched at the question. It was not one he expected to be asked._

 _"I have been in a fight with some wildlings your grace," he said in answer. Robb, with a little help from Bran, then recounted the tale of how a few months ago they were out hunting in the Wolfswood with their father when they were seen by a group of seven wildlings. They were attacked as they were heading back home, and Robb found himself facing two of them, both armed with rusty looking blades. Robb had parried and blocked their blows before he knocked one off balance and struck his longsword out, the edge of the blade slicing the man's neck. The second fought harder at seeing his friend die, and his strike saw him charge past Robb, who then swung his sword at the other man's thigh, slicing the leg open and spraying blood over the ground. The man clutched onto the wound in a futile effort to stop the blood, and Robb turned his attention to the other men that his father was fighting. Two of them were already dead, but one of them had cut his father's arm. His father was blocking their attacks with Ice, the Stark family's ancestral weapon. Robb ran to his father's aid, and plunged his sword into the gut of one man, distracting the other long enough for his father to hack Ice into that man's shoulder, cutting the man in half from shoulder to hip. Only one wildling was left, and he was holding Bran at knife point, pressing the tip of his blade into Bran's throat. Robb and his father lowered their weapons, but before anything else happened a massive Direwolf had appeared and attacked the wildling. Bran got away unharmed, and the three of them watched as the Direwolf tore the wildling apart. The man had managed to stab the beast several times, but he was as good as dead. Robb, Bran and their father left the man to die while the Direwolf limped away, only to fall and start giving birth to its litter. When the sixth and last pup was born the Direwolf had died from its injuries. Not long after that Jon and his group had arrived, and with some persuasion from Jon they agreed to take the Direwolf pups and raise them as their own._

 _"Well, at least something good came out of that then," the King said. "And are these beasts here two of the Direwolf pups that you and your father took?" he asked pointing to the Direwolves stood by them. Robb smirked._

 _"Yes they are your grace. This here is Grey Wind," he said as he patted Grey Wind's head. "And the one by Bran is Summer." The King held out his hand to Grey Wind, who sniffed his hand before licking it. Robert Baratheon laughed and did the same with Summer._

 _"Lovely animals," he said as he looked back up to Robb. "Right, let's go and introduce you both to my darling daughter." As the King led the way Silas leaned over to Robb's ear._

 _"I know you told me about the Direwolves in your last letter Robb, but you never said that you would bring one of them with you, let alone two," he said. Robb grinned at him._

 _"And pray tell what did you think Grey Wind and Summer here were?" he asked. Silas shrugged._

 _"A pair of oversized, over fed dogs," he replied. They kept on walking until they came across the Queen and a young woman, who seemed deep in conversation with one another._

 _"…and I'll decide on who I will and won't dance with mother," the younger woman who had her back to Robb said. "I shall not dance with Lord Tyrell's youngest son; I'd sooner dance with a drunken Frey than him." The Queen looked frustrated with the young woman. "And if I wish to dance with Uncle Tyrion, then I bloody well will." Now the Queen looked ready to burst._

 _"Now listen here Cassana…" the Queen started._

 _"Now now Cersei," Robert said. Cersei Lannister, the wife of King Robert, and Silas's mother, looked at her husband, her emerald green eyes glaring daggers at the man as she pulled a stray lock of her golden blonde hair back behind her ear. "It's her nameday; let her choose her dancing partners. Now, allow me to present our new guests here. Robb, this here is my lovely wife, Queen Cersei," he said pointing to the Queen. Robb bowed to her._

 _"My Queen," he said._

 _"And this black haired beauty is none other than my beautiful Princess, Cassana of the House Baratheon," the King finished. The young woman turned around to face Robb, who only just managed to not let his jaw drop at the woman before him. She was more than pretty. She had long black hair that she wore in an elegant crown-like braid, and wore a lovely blue dress of silk, with some gold along the collar and cuffs. Her face was elegant, inherited from her Lannister-born mother, and her eyes were a piercing blue. She was not just beautiful, but incredibly gorgeous._

Robb stood beside his father as he thought of his first meeting with Princess Cassana three years ago. He had been enchanted by the young woman, and quickly fell for her. He was not sure if it was love or lust, but to begin with he had somehow managed to behave himself while in her presence. During his time in the capitol Robb had spent time with Silas and Cassana and their family. Robb was not sure about the Queen, but he got along well with the King despite his initial disappointment over the man's appearance. Silas and Cassana's siblings were nice as well, except for Joffrey, who was completely rude to them the whole time. After sharing diner with them Robb and Bran retired for the evening. The following day was the start of the tourney. As Robb was taking part in the melee he would not be fighting as King Robert declared that the melee would be held on the second day. Robb stood with Bran and Silas as the joust took place before them. Silas did not bother to take part as he believed that the other competitors would let him win, being the King's son and all. They watched the joust all day, and when night came they all ate at the feast. It was there that Robb shared his first dance with Cassana, and the two of them spoke with one another throughout the evening. The next day Robb put his armour on ready for the melee. When the King called for the competitors to make ready for the melee Cassana approached Robb and gave him her favour. Robb went on to fight in the melee with the Princesses favour around his shield arm. When the King declared the match to begin Robb threw himself into the fight. He had fought several opponents, and taken quite a few hits from many of the others. After two hours of hard fighting Robb found himself with only one other competitor; Thoros of Myr. The two men then charged each other and fought hard for twenty minutes. When Thoros had thought he had the upper hand Robb blocked his incoming blow and forced the flaming sword of Thoros from his grasp. The blade went flying away and Robb found himself the winner of the melee when Thoros yielded to him. When the crowd cheered Robb was in sheer agony from the cuts and bruises that he had received from the other fighters. But it was all worth it, as he saw Cassana looking his way with a broad smile on her face. That night was one of joy and merriment. On the final night of the celebrations Robb found himself alone with the Princess, and the two of them got to know one another better, speaking of their families and their childhood. When the night came to an end Robb escorted Cassana back to her chambers. They bid each other good night once they reached her chambers, but not before they kissed each other, and it was not a chaste kiss either.

Robb stood up straighter in the courtyard of Winterfell, with his father to his left and his siblings to his right. He was nervous with what was happening. He had been betrothed to Princess Cassana for a couple of years now, and he was looking forward to the wedding. He was only nervous because his family apart from Bran had not yet met Cassana. Arya had asked questions about her, as had Sansa. Over the last three years his two little sisters had grown closer despite their differences. They were still the same as they were, but they no longer fought each other, and Sansa had finally started to play around with her sister, much to everyone's relief. If anyone had changed at all, then it was Sansa who had changed more than anything. She no longer acted like the snobby highborn lady who looked down on others. Neither did she pay much attention to the old songs and stories of knights that she once loved as a child. At sixteen Sansa was now more of a lady of the North, courteous and polite, but she had her mean streak when it was needed. Their mother had once fretted that it was her own Direwolf, Lady, who had brought about the change in her eldest daughter. Of course that was not the real reason for Sansa's change in attitude, but that reason was not spoken about, for it brought out the anger in every one of the Starks, from Robb to Jon, Eddard to Catlyn, and even Arya.

Robb dismissed the thoughts of the past events of three years ago when Silas rode through the gates, with three knights of the Kingsguard and Ser Lukas alongside him. A young girl also rode beside him. Robb realised that this was Princess Myrcella, Silas's youngest sister. The two royals had wide smiles on their faces, with Myrcella looking all around her in awe at the sight of Winterfell while Silas looked ahead at Robb and his family. Behind them were dozens of knights and men-at-arms in the colours of Houses Baratheon and Lannister, all marching or riding into Winterfell. Amongst these men was a wheelhouse, which no doubt held the Queen and her youngest son. As the wheelhouse was pulled into the courtyard the King himself rode into view. Once he was in the courtyard every one of Winterfell's residents knelt. Robb knelt there for what felt like an eternity when King Robert signalled to his father to rise. When Lord Eddard stood up, so did everyone else.

"Your grace," Eddard greeted, his face and tone of voice neutral. The King looked him up and down.

"You've got fat," Robert stated. Robb bit down on his lip, knowing it would not do to embarrass his family by laughing at the King's jape. He watched his father look at his old friend's belly and incline his head slightly, a slight smile on his face. After a seemingly tense moment both men laughed and embraced each other. The King greeted Robb's mother once he was done with his father. "My, my, twelve years. Why haven't I seen you, where the hells have you been?"

"Guarding the North for you, your grace," Eddard said. "Winterfell is yours." The King smiled as Queen Cersei stepped out of her wheelhouse, followed by her youngest son, Tommen.

"Robb, good to see you again," the King said as he extended his hand.

"Good to see you as well your grace," Robb replied as he grasped King Robert's hand and shook it. The King then went down the line and greeted each of Robb's trueborn siblings. As he did Silas walked over to them.

"My lord, my lady," he said as he approached them, his arms outstretched.

"My prince," Robb's mother said as she dipped into a curtsey.

"Prince Silas," Eddard said, stepping forward and offering his hand to him. "Welcome back to Winterfell." Silas shook hands with the Lord of Winterfell, and then took Catlyn's hand and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. He then turned to look at Robb.

"Stark," he said gruffly.

"Baratheon," Robb replied, just as gruffly. The two of them then laughed and embraced one another, all sense of proper protocol disregarded. "It's good to see you back," he said. Silas grinned at his friend.

"You'll change your tune soon enough once we're in the tiltyard," Silas laughed. Just then the Queen walked over to them. Robb's parents greeted her, being polite despite the Queen's apparent frostiness towards everything in front of her. Robb learned that that was her normal look. Before another word was spoken the King cleared his throat.

"Ned, before I get myself settled can you take me to the crypts?" he asked. "I'd like to pay my respects." Robb watched as his father left to take the King down to the crypt beneath Winterfell. As they left Robb saw the sad look in Cersei's eyes. Robb knew why she had that look. She was the Queen, the most powerful woman in all of Westeros, and her husband still only loved Robb's own aunt, Lyanna Stark, who had died down in Dorne at the end of the war.

As Robb's mother spoke with the Queen to distract her, a young woman glided over to them. Robb turned to face her, and was awestruck when he saw his intended. Cassana was even more beautiful than the last time Robb had seen her.

"Lord Robb," she said, holding out her hand to him. Robb took her hand and pressed his lips to the back of her hand.

"Princess Cassana," he replied with a broad smile. "Welcome to Winterfell." Cassana bestowed Robb with a wide smile that reached her eyes. Robb had to fight the urge to reach out and kiss her there and then, knowing that it probably would not go down well with the Queen. As Cassana stood smiling Robb noticed the one royal that he did not like too much.

"Well now Robb, it's nice to be here," he said, his voice only just hiding the disdain that he felt towards Robb's home.

"Prince Joffrey," Robb greeted while shooting him a glare. Cassana turned around and looked at her little brother.

"Joffrey, be a good boy and go ensure that the servants have all of our belongings ready to be brought up to where our chambers will be," she barked out to him. Robb smirked slightly when he saw Joffrey wince slightly at his sister. The young prince did as he was told without argument. Once he had gone Cassana turned to look at Robb again. "I'm sorry we brought him with us Robb," she said quietly. "I know you can't stand him." Robb smiled at her.

"No matter Cass," he said. "I'm sure I can endure him for a short time. Besides, with you here, it'll be only a slight irritation." Cassana smiled at him

After a couple of minutes spent introducing Cassana to his family Robb asked Cassana and her two youngest siblings, Myrcella and Tommen, if they would like a quick tour of Winterfell. They spent the next hour and a half wandering the ancient castle, with Robb finishing the tour at the godswood. The children were impressed with the godswood, taking in the scenery while Cassana spent the whole time walking hand in hand with Robb. After a short time they were stood before the heart tree, Winterfell's ancient weirwood tree. Myrcella and Tommen were both nervous with the weirwood tree's carved face, thinking that it was watching them.

"That'll be the old gods watching us," Cassana had told them. Soon they made their way back to the castle, and Robb showed the younger two to their guest chambers. Once they were in Robb escorted Cassana to her chambers. Once he was certain that no one was around Robb pulled Cassana into a spare room that was not occupied. Closing the door behind them Robb cupped Cassana's face and pressed his lips hungrily against hers. Cassana deepened the kiss, wrapping her arms around Robb's back. They kissed each other passionately for a few minutes before regrettably breaking their kiss, both of them breathing hard.

"Gods I missed you," Robb whispered, trailing a hand down to Cassana's hip. She grinned at Robb, her face flushed.

"As did I," she said before kissing him again. They kissed for a short time, rubbing their hands up and down each other. Robb felt one hand pressed against his chest while another snaked down to his crotch. Cassana giggled as Robb gasped in shock at her forwardness. "I'm really looking forward to our wedding," she said. Robb squeezed one of her breasts, making her moan slightly.

"Well, we'd better stop now before we get too carried away," Robb said. Cassana sighed as he gently massaged her breast. She gazed into his blue eyes, biting down on her lip.

"Must we?" she asked. Robb chuckled.

"The last time we did this I very nearly took you honour," Robb said as memories of that night after the tourney came back to him. They had kissed in the hallway before Cassana pulled Robb into her chambers. As they kissed they had let their hands roam over each other's bodies. Robb had just managed to stop himself going too far then, and he was not wanting to go too far just now.

"Am I not desirable anymore?" Cassana pouted. Robb knew that she was playing with him. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

"Believe me, I would like nothing more than to get you naked and in my bed," he said. Cassana laughed.

"Seven hells, and I thought my father was bad," she said. Robb smiled widely at her.

"Well, just so you know, I'll only ever keep to you," he said. Cassana gave Robb her widest smile yet.

"You bloody well better Robb Stark," she said. "Because if you don't, you'll learn why my House words are 'Ours is the fury'." With that they kissed one final time before leaving the room, Robb going first to make sure that no one was around. They left the room and walked back to Cassana's chamber. Robb bid Cassana farewell before he left for his own chambers.

* * *

Jon Snow

Jon sat with the squires at the feast. Many other baseborn sons who lived in their lord father's castles might feel slighted by such circumstances, but not Jon. True, he was not happy that he could not sit with his siblings, but Lady Catlyn had made it quite clear why he could not sit with them this time.

"The King might not care, but the Queen will," she had told him. "It is known how Lannisters are towards those outside their House, and they can be even worse towards bastard-born." Jon had bristled at being referred to as a bastard, but he knew that he could not do much about that. Lady Catlyn has treated him with kindness his whole life, but they have had their differences over the years. Despite this Jon has always felt at home in Winterfell.

Before the feast began properly Jon's family walked into the great hall, escorting the royal family as they entered. As the host, Jon's father entered first escorting Queen Cersei, then came King Robert with Lady Catlyn. Robb was next with his future wife Princess Cassana, followed next by Prince Silas escorting Sansa. Then entered Prince Joffrey with Arya, who looked less than impressed with having to hold onto the arm of Silas's younger brother. Bran was next with Princess Myrcella, who looked at Bran with a wide smile. Jon chuckled at the sight of Bran going red faced at escorting a princess. After they entered Rickon followed by himself, with Prince Tommen close behind. Finally Lord Tyrion Lannister, the Queen's younger brother, entered. The dwarf waddled up to his seat while everyone else took their seats. Once they were sat down the King announced that the feast could begin. Jon helped himself to some boar and venison along with some roasted vegetables, and called a servant to fill his cup up with some mead.

The feast had gone on for a few hours now. People were quite merry as the drink flowed. Jon heard Ser Rodrik Cassel, the master-at-arms of Winterfell, laughing loudly as he spoke with some men-at-arms. He watched as Theon Greyjoy, his father's ward, was groping a serving girl who blushed at something the Iron Islander had whispered in her ear. He laughed as the royal children nervously petted his siblings Direwolves. The beasts had drawn the attention of many of the southerners, with one or two saying how they would rather the animals were back in the wild. One of the squires at the table looked at Ghost, Jon's own Direwolf, and spat at him.

"Do that again and you'll regret it," Jon said venomously. The squire, who Jon learned was one Lancel Lannister, glared at him.

"Shut it bastard," he said. "I'm the Queen's cousin, and if you speak out of line again then I'll…"

"You'll do what, you golden haired shit?" a new voice said. Jon looked over his shoulder to see Ser Lukas Storm. "Well go on Lancel," he said. "What will you do? Nothing, that's what." Lancel glared at Lukas, but Jon could tell that he was nervous. He leaned across the table and glared at the Lannister.

"Do that again, and there won't be anything left of you to bury, except for a pile of shit when Ghost here is done with you," Jon said lowly while gesturing to Ghost, who had been staring menacingly at Lancel since he spat at him. Lancel looked between both Jon and Ghost before he stood up from his seat and wandered to the other end of the table.

"That little cunt thinks he's something special," Lukas murmured as he took the seat that Lancel had just vacated. "So, how's it going Jon?" he asked. Jon held his cup up to a servant who offered to refill it with mead. He thanked the servant before turning back to Lukas.

"Not too bad Lukas," he said. "Just the same as usual. Nothing much to worry about around Winterfell just now, aside from the current Lannister infestation." Both of them laughed.

"Now that is not a terribly nice thing to say of my family," a voice said from beside Jon. He looked at the man and recognised him as Tyrion Lannister.

"You know it's true though, don't you Imp," Lukas stated.

"Oh yes, it is indeed," Tyrion replied. He looked at Jon and offered his hand. "Tyrion, son of Tywin of the House Lannister. And you must be Ned Stark's bastard?" Jon shook the Imp's hand, glaring at him for his words.

"Lord Eddard Stark is my father, but my mother was the Lady Ashara of House Dayne of Starfall," Jon said. Tyrion looked Jon in the eye, as if searching for something. If he found it or not, he did not say, although Jon could guess what it was. "I was born all Stark in appearance, but I'm told there is a slight purple hue to my eyes that can be seen in certain light." Tyrion gave him a slight smile.

"Yes, I can see it now," he said. "The Daynes are known for having purple eyes." He sat himself down on a seat next to Jon and pulled out a wineskin which he then proceeded to drink from. "Still, if there is one thing you and I have in common, it's that we know who our mothers were, but have never met them, nor shall we meet them." Jon looked at him with a cold look. Everyone knew what happened to Ashara Dayne, it was common knowledge that she took her own life after news of her beloved brother's death by the hand of Jon's father. What was not well known is that Ashara had been in love with Jon's father, and when news reached her that he had married Lady Catlyn, Jon's mother was said to have been distraught.

Jon's father had told him once many years ago how Ashara had come to him the night he had learned of the deaths of his older brother and father by the Mad King's orders. She had been sent by Princess Elia Martel, whom she was a handmaiden to, to bring word to both Eddard and the current king of what was going on. She had arrived the same day news of the deaths of Jon's uncle and grandfather reached the Eyrie, which led to the beginning of the rebellion. Eddard had told Jon that his mother came to comfort him, and somehow the two of them ended up in bed together. His father told him how he wanted to marry Ashara to preserve her honour, but when he learned that she was not a maiden he was upset, and they parted on bad terms. Jon then realised that his father had been blaming himself for Ashara's death ever since. Jon had been seven when his father told him all of this, after he had run to him in tears after a falling out with Lady Catlyn, who was still herself unaware of Jon's mother at the time. When Eddard told him the truth he had told his wife as well, and that alone had been enough to improve relations between Jon and Lady Catlyn.

Jon sat with Lukas and Tyrion for an hour or so. During the time he spent with Tyrion he learned that the young lord was banned from inheriting Casterly Rock by his father, who looked down on him with spite for not only being a dwarf but for surviving when Tyrion's mother, Lady Joanna, died giving birth to him. Ser Kevan Lannister, his uncle and Lancel's father, was chosen to be Tywin's heir. Tyrion had taken an interest in Ghost, and started to ask Jon about Direwolves and the North in general. Despite his initial frostiness Jon found some respect for Tyrion, who turned out to be quite a knowledgeable person. What he lacked in strength he made up for with his intelligence. Unlike his sister the Queen, Tyrion did not look down on people who were not named Lannister or otherwise related to his House through blood and marriage. After a while Jon decided to go outside for some fresh air.

"Would you like some company Jon?" Tyrion had asked when he stood up to go out.

"No thank you my lord," Jon said. "Just need to get some air and solitude. I'm not one for crowds." With that Jon left the great hall. The cold northern air hit him as he opened the door to leave, the crisp cold air refreshing to him. As he walked to the tiltyard with Ghost beside him he heard grunting sounds nearby. At first he thought it was Theon with the serving girl from earlier, until he rounded the corner and saw Arya with a training sword in hand whacking a practice dummy. He stood and watched as his little sister hacked and slashed away, grunting with every hit. Jon smiled at the scene. Arya was never one to behave like a lady.

"Stupid, ignorant, slimy, ugly, fucking prince," Arya huffed as she struck the dummy harder. With her last word she thrust the training sword at the dummy, tearing through the hardened cloth and straw.

"Such terrible words from a lady," Jon said in a loud voice. Arya jumped at the sound of his voice, turning to see him.

"I'm not a lady," she spat, making Jon laugh. "Shut up." Jon laughed for a bit longer until he saw the tears that had streaked his sister's face. Jon stopped laughing and stepped closer to her. He wiped the tear streaks from her face.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Arya sighed, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"No," she choked out. "That stupid prat of a prince, Joffrey. He just glares at everything in sight, leers at any girl who walks by, and eyes Sansa like a piece of meat. I told him to stop staring at her but he just laughed." Arya sat down on an overturned bucket and looked up at Jon, who started to feel anger towards the middle prince. "I went outside to get some peace from him. But he followed me and kept saying that I was a stupid little girl for telling a prince what to do. I told him he was a useless little fool who wouldn't last a day if he was ever made a king or given a lordship over even so much as a brothel. He did not take that well." Jon chuckled at the thought. Arya gave him a small smile, but it quickly disappeared. "After that he said if I talked like that to him again he would set the Hound on me, have him do to me what his brother the Mountain did to Elia Martel," she said. Those words made Jon shudder with rage. Everyone knows what Ser Gregor Clegane did to Elia Martel during the sack of King's Landing. Jon felt his fists clench.

"The little shit," Jon muttered. He sat down next to Arya as she began to cry.

"I told him if he did then I would kill his sworn shield and show him a she-wolf is just as fierce in battle as a man," she continued. "He just laughed and said, 'well I suppose learning to be a warrior can make up for you being an ugly little cunt'." Jon jolted upright at this. _How dare he,_ he thought. _How dare he insult my little sister so_. Arya sobbed quietly, resting her head against Jon's shoulder as he wrapped his arms protectively around her. He let her cry into his shoulder, rubbing her back as she did.

"Don't listen to him Arya," Jon said as calmly as he could, despite the anger flowing through him. "He is just an arse with no brains, as Silas once put it to me and Robb." Arya managed a little laugh.

"How can Silas have such a vile cur for a brother?" Arya asked. Jon struggled to answer that question. As he was thinking about it he saw Lady Catlyn wander over from the shadows.

"Some people are just foolish my girl," she said, startling Arya. She looked at her mother and started to wipe her eyes and face frantically. Lady Catlyn knelt beside her and rested a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay to cry Arya," she whispered to her. Arya stopped wiping and reached out for her mother, who took her into her arms. "You may have seen your fourteenth nameday recently, and you may have flowered, but you'll always be my little girl no matter what. Don't let people get to you like that," Lady Catlyn said softly. She then looked back to Jon as she began to stand up, lifting Arya up as she did. Arya may be fourteen, but she was still small enough to lift up, even though it was not possible for her mother to carry her like she used to when she was a child. "I'll take her to her rooms and get her settled Jon. You get some rest, and avoid Prince Joffrey. I'll deal with him as soon as I can." Jon bowed his head to her.

"Very well, my lady," he intoned as she set Arya down on her feet. Lady Catlyn then walked away, her arm over Arya's shoulder.

Jon watched them walk back into the castle. He was angry. Very angry. He paced the tiltyard for some time, thinking on what Arya told him. He wanted to kill Joffrey for hurting his sister like that. He wanted to cut his throat open and watch him die slowly. He wanted to drown him in the White Knife and let his body float away downstream. He paced around, his thoughts getting to him, until he finally snapped. He snatched the training sword that Arya had buried in the dummy and yanked it out. He paced a bit more, getting further away from the dummy, until he was ten yards away. He turned to face the dummy and then he ran to it, the sword over his head. When he was close he swung the training sword down with all of his strength. The training sword may have been made of wood, but it cut into the straw and hardened cloth, which were probably already weakened from being hit many times by Arya, as well as many others before her.

"Remind me never to piss you off Jon," a voice called out. Jon turned around to see Silas stood there. Jon calmed himself somewhat before prying the training sword out from the dummy. "I'd hate to be that poor dummy, and that's with a wooden sword. Glad you don't have live steel in your hands," he said with a wry smile. Jon gave a half-hearted laugh. "What troubles you?" Silas asked. Jon let out a loud sigh before he looked up at his old friend.

"Your brother Joffrey," Jon answered. "Or rather how he treated Arya." Jon then recounted to Silas what Arya had told him. Silas stood there listening, his face getting redder with anger the more Jon spoke. When Jon was done speaking Silas walked over to the rack with the training swords and picked one up.

"Come on then, let you rage out Jon," he said. Jon grinned at him and dropped into a fighting stance. For the next half hour the two traded blows with their training swords, hacking, slashing, thrusting, parrying and blocking. Neither landed a hit on each other. Both were equal with their swordsmanship. For Silas it was training with the legendary Barristan the Bold. For Jon it was his training with Ser Rodrik as well as possibly some skill inherited from his mother's family. House Dayne is known for producing fine swordsmen over the years, with the finest swordsman of House Dayne being knighted and granted the title of the Sword of the Morning, and therefore being allowed to carry Dawn, their ancestral greatsword. Jon would never hold Dawn, having been raised a bastard of the North, but he would prove his skill none the less. After they had fought they both slumped to the ground, exhausted from their sparring. Silas laughed a bit, while Jon just sat feeling stiff and sore.

"Good to see you can still swing a blade," Jon said. Silas scoffed.

"Any fool can swing a blade," he said. "Except for Joffrey. He can't swing a blade to save his life." The two of them shared a laugh before picking themselves up off the floor. "So anyway, here's what we shall do with my idiot brother come the morrow." Silas told Jon his plan for dealing with Joffrey. Once he was finished, Jon smiled.

* * *

Cassana Baratheon

"That is how to deal with fools like him," Cassana said to Sansa and Arya. Cassana had been watching the sparring session with the Stark girls for the last twenty minutes. Earlier that morning when they were breaking their fast Silas told Cassana to go and watch the sparring session at noon, and to bring both Sansa and Arya. Cassana did as her older brother asked. The girls had been at a sewing lesson with Septa Mordane when Cassana had suggested that they get some fresh air and watch the boys with their sword training. When they got there they saw Robb and Silas slashing at each other before Silas tripped Robb up and disarmed him, pointing his sword at Robb's throat and thus winning their bout. Silas helped Robb up to his feet, and then Rickon and Tommen started to fight. Tommen was holding his own for a short time before he tripped on a stone. As he tried to regain his balance Rickon lunged at him and struck him on the head. Tommen yielded the fight, rubbing his head while Rickon roared with glee. Then came Joffrey and Bran.

"Bran is not a good fighter," Sansa had said. Sure enough Joffrey managed to beat Bran within a minute, though Cassana could not help but feel that Bran gave up far too easily.

"If little Stark here couldn't beat me then none of you are worthy of fighting me," Joffrey called out in his usual arrogant tone.

"Little shit," Arya muttered.

"Arya!" Sansa all but yelled at her sister. Cassana watched the spectacle in front of her. Joffrey was grinning like the idiot he is while Robb and Silas glared at him.

"These boys are so pathetic I could take them all on by myself," Joffrey called out. The Lannister guardsmen started to laugh. At that moment Cassana noticed Silas grin. It was an evil grin.

"Oh Joffrey you stupid boy," Cassana whispered. Both of the Stark girls heard her and looked down into the tiltyard. Silas stepped forward and looked at Joffrey.

"If that is the case, then you wouldn't mind showing our northern hosts how inferior they are in the arts of battle, will you?" Silas called out in a loud and clear voice. Cassana saw her younger brother pale at Silas's words. Robb and Rickon stepped forward then, gripping their swords tightly. "And to make it even more interesting, Tommen shall fight with the Starks, just to give them an advantage." Tommen then stood beside Robb, a wide grin on his face. Joffrey began to step back, but his sworn shield stopped him. The Hound gave him a gentle shove back to the others.

"Um, well Silas… we… uh, well we don't have to… um…" Joffrey stuttered as Silas crossed his arms.

"Make it easy for you?" Silas said. "Very well then. Jon, come and join us." Ser Rodrik moved to protest, as Jon was baseborn and therefore could not spar with a prince. Silas waved him off. "In a true battle your opponent's station in society means bugger all Ser Rodrik, as I'm sure you know," he said. As he spoke Robb whispered into Ser Rodrik's ear. The old man gave a nod of his head then.

"Very well then my prince," he bellowed out. "For this exercise we shall use blunted tourney swords." Cassana and the girls laughed at the look on Joffrey's face when the swords were given out.

"Ser Rodrik, this is outrageous," he barked in his whiney voice. "I don't have to do this."

"Oh but you do dear brother," Silas said, his voice laced with controlled anger. "After all, we have some lovely ladies watching, including our very own sister." Joffrey looked up at the balcony where Cassana and the girls stood. Joffrey started to whimper. "Of course, if you have something to apologise for…" Cassana looked at Silas and gave him a look of confusion. She then looked at Joffrey and saw that he was looking up at Arya, who Cassana noticed was glaring down at him with loathing and contempt. After a moment Joffrey looked back to the other boys.

"Alright, I picked on Lady Arya last night," Joffrey blurted. "I insulted her and her family, I called her a stupid girl and an ugly cunt." Cassana gasped at her brother's confession.

"The little shit," Sansa said, her voice full of shock.

"Sansa!" Now it was Arya's turn to be shocked at her sister.

"YOU DID WHAT!" came the booming voice of Cassana's father. King Robert stomped over to the group, with Lord Stark close behind him. "Ned was telling me about a complaint from his wife about you upsetting his youngest daughter. What gives you the right to insult our hosts? MY BEST FRIEND'S DAUGHTER?" Joffrey looked away from the King, who just continued to glare at him. The King then turned to Lord Stark. "I suggest we let your boys and my other boys discipline him," he said in a clear voice.

"Father, no…" Joffrey began.

"I agree your grace," was all Lord Stark said.

And so Joffrey found himself fighting off Silas, Tommen, Robb, Rickon and Jon, who were all relentless with their attacks. After nearly ten minutes of fighting Joffrey was lying on the ground, whimpering like a child. The others all wandered off, with the Hound staying by his charge. Cassana walked away from the sight, with Sansa and Arya giggling behind her.

"A good way to deal with fools," Sansa said. Arya was red faced from laughing so hard. Cassana noticed that Arya was a lot happier with what had just happened. She placed her hand on Arya's shoulder.

"You okay now?" Cassana asked her. She looked up at her and smiled.

"Much better now," Arya said. The three of them then walked back to continue with their sewing lesson. Sansa and Cassana chatted away while they sewed, with Arya pretending to sew as she was still no good with it.

The rest of the day flew by. They all spent time together getting ready for the upcoming wedding, getting dresses sorted (while Arya rolled her eyes and sat with a bored expression on her face), discussing their perfect dream weddings (with Arya again rolling her eyes and sitting with a bored expression on her face), and deciding how they would spend their days (with Arya saying that she will never marry unless she gets a husband who would let her practice her horse riding, archery and swordsmanship, prompting laughs from Cassana and Sansa). They went to bed that night, exhausted and sleepy. The next day was one of over-activity, as Cassana and Sansa discussed the finer details of the wedding with Lady Stark and Cassana's mother. They spent that whole day getting everything ready. It was during dinner that day that Cassana's father stood up and made an announcement.

"First of all, I would like to thank my long-time friend, Lord Eddard, for his hospitality and putting up with me and mine for the last couple of days," Robert started. Some of those gathered chuckled. "We have known each other for so many years now. We lived as brothers, we fought side by side. We have seen and done much together like brothers, and I will be proud to be related to him through the marriage between our children in two days' time. And I am also glad that after thinking about it long and hard that my friend has agreed on some things that we have both discussed." The room fell eerily quiet then. Cassana leaned closer in her seat to hear whatever her father was going to say. "In two days' time, when my daughter, Princess Cassana, and Ned's son, Lord Robb, are wedded, we shall hold the wedding ceremony in the godswood before the weirwood tree, and hold a northern ceremony followed quickly by an Andal ceremony in front of the tree so that the wedding is legal in the eyes of both sets of gods." The room erupted into applause at the King's announcement. "Also, Ned has agreed to follow me back to King's Landing, where he'll take up the office of Hand of the King, becoming only the second Stark to hold that office, and hopefully the first to hold it for more than a day," Robert said before laughing boisterously. Others in the room began to laugh also. "And finally, when we go down to King's Landing, Ned shall be bringing four of his children." Cassana looked at Lady Stark, who she noticed shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She also noticed that her mother was glaring at her Father, meaning that whatever it was, they had disagreed and no doubt argued over it. "Coming with us will be both of Ned's daughters, the Ladies Sansa and Arya," he said. Both girls, who were sat next to Cassana, gasped. The King looked at the girls before he continued. "Sansa shall be joining us to learn the ways of the south, to give her a better insight to the court and how things are done, as Ned has told me of her sharp mind. We would be blessed to have you come down with us. As for Arya, well your father and I both agreed that it would do you good to get out of Winterfell for a short time, even if only for a year. Also, your father would never give me a moment's peace if I didn't say this, but I will assure both of you that you shall not be forced into marriage when you go south. If you marry, it will be your own choice, not ours."

"Thank the gods," Sansa whispered quietly. Cassana saw the relief in her eyes, as well as the relief in Arya's eyes too, although when she looked to her father Arya looked at him with fury in her eyes. Cassana looked back up to her father.

"Ned's middle son, young Brandon will join us on the journey south, and once settled in you will be taken as a squire to Ser Lukas Storm, my eldest son's sworn shield," he said. Cassana noticed young Bran looking up to the King with a broad smile on his face. She had heard from Robb that Bran has always wanted to become a knight. Three of Lady Stark's children going south could explain why she was uncomfortable, but it did not help to explain to Cassana why her mother was seemingly angry at her father. "And after much… deliberation with Ned and our wives we have decided that little Arya could do with having someone around who would be able to help her settle down in King's Landing. Someone who she can go to when her father is too busy and her sister is preoccupied. Therefore we have agreed, albeit eventually, that Ned's baseborn son Jon Snow will join us south also, and stay with us for as long as Arya is present." There was stunned silence in the room. Now it made sense to Cassana why her mother was angry. It was to say the least unusual for a king to openly welcome a bastard for any reason, but Cassana knew her father. Her elder brother's sworn shield was born a bastard; one of the blacksmiths at the Red Keep, a lad called Gendry, was one of her many bastard siblings by her father; Frieda, one of Varys's little birds who answered directly to her and Silas, was a bastard that her Kingly father knew about and seemed to approve of (probably for reporting Varys's goings on to his eldest children). _Father's seeming love of bastards is going to get him more grief than anything else one day,_ Cassana thought.

With the announcements done with Cassana had resumed eating her dinner. She disregarded any other thoughts of her father's plans in regards to Lord Stark's children. It made no difference to her in the end. In a couple of days' time she would be Princess Cassana Baratheon no more; she would become Lady Cassana Stark, wife of Robb Stark, the heir to Winterfell. After dinner had ended Cassana left to return to her chambers for the evening. Once there she removed her dress and put on a simple nightgown to wear, and then she walked over to her bed. As she settled down in her bed for the night she picked up a book and began to read it. The book was on the history of the North, and detailed many things that Cassana wanted to know. After reading for quite some time she started to grow tired, and after reading the same sentence nine times she decided to put the book down and try to get some sleep. As she drifted off she thought of Robb, and how she looked forward to being with him for the rest of her life.

* * *

Author's Note = This is my first attempt at Fan-fiction. These chapters will be long from time to time. Read and Review please, let me know what you think, just bear in mind that I won't be updating all the time thanks to good old real life.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** Warning for smut and some violence later on.

 **Chapter Two**

Silas Baratheon

The morning was cool, but bearable. It was the morning of the wedding, and Silas was both nervous and excited. Excited because he was going to become Robb's brother-by-law. He has always regarded Robb as a brother; ever since he was eight when they first met he has regarded Robb as more of a brother than Joffrey. But he was nervous for Cassana, whom he cared for greatly. He remembered once how his mother said that as the elder sibling you cannot help but be protective, or at least close, to your immediate younger sibling. His mother had a younger twin brother, Jamie, who was a knight of Aerys Targaryen's Kingsguard. She had loved him dearly, but he died after he killed the Mad King. The story goes that Mad Aerys ordered Ser Jamie to bring the head of his father, Lord Tywin Lannister, to him after the Old Lion had his men sack the city at the end of Robert's Rebellion. Jamie would not do that though. However, as he stood there shocked by his King's order he then heard the Mad King turn to his pyromancer and order him to burn the city. Jamie had then decided to deal with the pyromancer first, cutting him down, then he advanced on Mad Aerys, who turned to flee. Jamie shoved his sword into his back just as several Targaryen soldiers entered the throne room. They watched as Ser Jamie broke his vows and slit the throat of the Mad King. After that Jamie was fighting the soldiers, who were reinforced by dozens of others. It is said that he killed all of the men, but received a dozen injuries. When the last man fell dead Lord Eddard had entered and watched Jamie fall. He told the Warden of the North what he did and why he did it. He then died of his wounds, and the caches of wildfire were found not long after. Silas's mother said she was distraught when her twin's remains were brought back to Casterly Rock, and she thought of ending her life many times until she gave birth to Silas.

Silas has heard of the tale of his uncle many times, from his mother and from Lord Eddard. Lord Eddard always spoke of Jamie Lannister with a mix of respect and dislike. He disliked Jamie for breaking his vows, as that was not the honourable thing to do, but Eddard does concede that if he did not do as he did then more than half a million people would have been burned alive by Aerys Targaryen's madness. The story of his uncle was going through his head as he entered the hall set aside for the royal family for them to have their meals privately. His mother was sat with Tommen and Myrcella.

"Morning all," Silas said. His siblings greeted him. Cersei looked up from her breakfast and gave him her usual sad smile.

"Morning Silas," she said. Silas sat down beside Tommen after leaning forward to kiss his mother's cheek. "I'm surprised that you're here rather than with Lord Stark's son," she stated.

"He's so handsome, isn't he?" Myrcella asked innocently. Silas looked across the table where she sat.

"Is that so?" he began. "Don't let Cass hear you say that now Cella, or she'll probably send you beyond the Wall as punishment." Tommen chuckled briefly while Myrcella raised her brow and pouted.

"I'm just stating a fact Silas," she said. "Cass is lucky to be getting married to a fine lord like Robb." Silas grabbed his cutlery as a servant brought him his breakfast, which was sausages and bacon with freshly baked bread and boiled eggs. He sliced his bacon and began to eat it.

"I don't know about fine," he said when he finished his mouthful. "But he is a good man. Cass couldn't have asked for a better match." Silas noticed his mother scoff at that. _Well, you can disagree all you want mother,_ he thought. "Personally, I think Grey Wind is far better looking," he japed. Tommen and Myrcella both giggled while their mother gave a small laugh.

"How do they keep those beasts under control?" she asked after a moment of silence. "I'm nervous of Cassana being so close to that damn thing." Silas rolled his eyes.

"They seem kind enough to me," Tommen said. Cersei looked at her youngest son.

"Direwolves are not pets sweetling," she said. "They can tear a man apart with ease when they are as big as the ones the Stark children have." Silas put his knife and fork down on his plate and wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin a servant had placed.

"Those Direwolves are half the size of stallions just now, but they can grow much bigger than that," he said. Myrcella and Tommen both looked at him with wonder in their eyes. "Lord Eddard once told me that a Direwolf can grow as big, and sometimes bigger, than a stallion. Direwolves are very protective of their pack, and the Starks are regarded as part of their pack. Robb told me how last year, when they had a very large band of pirates to deal with along the coast near Karhold, that Greatjon Umber, the Lord of Last Hearth, had challenged him over his planning. When the Greatjon reached for his knife after Robb warned him that he would hang if he went home with his men, which he had threatened to do, Grey Wind lunged at him and tore off two of his fingers, just for threatening Robb. After that Lord Umber just laughed and fell in line." Myrcella's mouth gaped open in astonishment while Tommen sat with childlike wonder.

"Why did Lord Umber threaten to leave his liege lord's son?" Cersei asked. Silas turned to look at his mother.

"Robb said that he was going to hold Greatjon back to use him and his men as a flanking force, while giving Lord Karstark the vanguard. Lord Umber didn't take that very well. Robb later learned from his father that Greatjon was more than likely testing him, to see if he is like a true Stark," he answered. "If that is the case, then he must have passed. Anyway, after the fighting came to an end all of the pirates were captured or killed by Robb and his men. The few surviving pirates were sent to the Wall, apart from those in charge. They…" Silas hesitated, thinking of the best way to put it in front of Myrcella and Tommen. "They met the King's justice." His mother was satisfied by the answer. Myrcella and Tommen just looked at him with confusion. After a minute Tommen sat up straighter.

"But Ser Ilyn stayed in the capitol all of last year," he said. Silas laughed.

"No my little brother," he said. "Here in the North, the lords carry out the King's justice. Being descended from the First Men they hold to not only the old gods, but to the old way. One of the many things they say is that 'the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword'." Tommen looked back down at his plate while Myrcella looked shocked.

"They carry out their own executions?" she asked. Silas noticed his mother wince at Myrcella's revelation. Silas simply nodded to his sister.

They all sat in silence and finished their breakfast before going to their separate chambers. Silas, however, went outside and wandered around the courtyard, watching the small folk as they went about their business. Even though there was to be a wedding today it was still business as usual in Winterfell. Silas walked to the entrance of the godswood, where he saw his father and Lord Eddard go.

"Father, Lord Eddard," he called out. Both men turned and saw him approach. "Going to oversee the final preparations?" His father gave a wide smile.

"Aye," he said. "Just going over a few things here and there with Ned." Lord Eddard cleared his throat. Both father and son looked at him.

"I was wondering Robert if I could talk to Silas alone for a minute?" Eddard asked. Robert looked between his friend and his son before he nodded.

"I'll see you at the heart tree Ned, but don't take too long," he said. "Those trees make me nervous." The King walked into the godswood while Silas and Eddard took a quick stroll.

"I just wanted to say that I am grateful for your handling of your brother Joffrey," he said as they walked. "I was beyond angry when Cat told me what he said to Arya." Silas nodded his head.

"It was what he deserved Lord Eddard," Silas said. Eddard smirked.

"No formalities now Silas," he said. "You've told me often enough how you can't stand them." Both of them chuckled.

"Too true Eddard, too true," Silas said. They continued to walk in silence for five minutes, walking past various trees as they did. When they came to an old oak tree Silas broke the silence. "What else did you need to speak about?" he asked. Eddard sighed before removing a scroll of parchment.

"This came for you last night," he said. "From someone called Frieda?" Silas took the parchment from him, broke the seal on it (which was of a small bird in a ring of quills) and read it.

 **To Crown Prince Silas of the House Baratheon,**

 **I have done as you have asked in regards to the Old Falcon's death. You are correct in assuming that his death was not from old age. The Spider has also been investigating and come up with the same conclusion. All evidence we come across points to the Mockingbird, who you have already suspected. Whatever he is up to, I cannot say, but I shall keep my eye on him as well as his lady love's sister, who seems to be connected to her husband's end somehow. I don't know how, but I'm certain she is linked. I've sent a letter to the Quiet Wolf as well, telling him of my suspicions and to not trust his wife's sister.**

 **Forever your loyal servant,**

 **Frieda of Flea Bottom**

 **P.S. Do give my regards to your sister on her wedding to the Young Wolf.**

Silas lowered the letter and rubbed his forehead. This is something that he had feared. _So it is just as I thought,_ he realised. He looked back up to Eddard.

"You have received your letter?" he asked. Eddard nodded his head. "What I'm about to tell you must stay between you, me and your wife. I know that Lady Lysa has sent word to her, probably accusing someone of murdering Jon Arryn." Eddard's eyes went wide.

"How…" he started. Silas raised his letter.

"Frieda is a spy who works for Varys, but she reports everything to me and Cass as well," he answered. "I have been looking into Jon's death. He was poisoned. By whom, I'm not totally sure, but I have reason to believe that Petyr Baelish is behind it. He is up to something, but I'll be damned if I know what exactly." Eddard looked down, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Lysa told Cat that your mother's family are responsible for Jon's murder," he said when he looked back up to Silas. Silas nodded his head in understanding.

"Makes sense," he said. "After all, it's no secret that you can barely stand my grandfather for what he did twenty years ago." Silas noticed Eddard's eyes darken at the memory of the sack of King's Landing. "Stirring up tensions between the Houses Stark and Lannister is a sure way to start a conflict, perhaps even a war."

"But why would Lord Baelish do that?" he asked. Silas shrugged his shoulders.

"The slimy fucker has always been up to something," he said. "He is known to spread lies around the city for his own ends. One lie that you will not like is in regards to Lady Catlyn." Eddard tensed up at this.

"What lie is this?"

"That he took your wife's maidenhead many years ago," Silas answered. Eddard looked shocked, but that quickly turned to anger.

"That is definitely a lie," he said, his voice laced with anger. "I saw her virginal blood on the bedsheets after we…" He trailed off there, before calming himself. "Forgive me, but that is something I'd rather not discuss with anyone else."

"I understand," Silas said. Looking at Eddard he could tell that he was considering bringing harm to Baelish. Before he could speak Silas spoke further. "It is true that Littlefinger has bedded Lysa Arryn, when she was still Lysa Tully, but he has definitely not bedded Lady Catlyn. Even I know that your wife would never dishonour herself in such a way. But regardless there is nothing to be done just now." Eddard looked back to him.

"If Lord Baelish has murdered Jon then he must be brought to justice," he said.

"I agree, but we need solid evidence first," Silas said. "My Uncle Stannis is also looking into Littlefinger's activities. Frieda is looking everywhere she can as well. But for now we only have suspicions, no evidence." Eddard looked down defeated. "We can't say anything yet, not even to my father." Eddard looked back at him, looking like he was going to protest, but after a moment he nodded his head.

"Very well Silas," he said. Both of them stood still for a moment before Eddard straightened himself and began to walk away. "I'll need to speak with Cat about this, let her know what you have told me. For now though let's go and find your father. He won't like being left alone around the weirwood tree." Silas chuckled as he followed Eddard to where the weirwood would be found.

* * *

Jon Snow

Jon walked with the other guests into the godswood. He was feeling a little bit uncomfortable, and not just in the fancy clothing. He hated wearing fine clothes at the best of times. However, he was uncomfortable because of the King's announcement two days ago. He did not expect that. On one hand it meant that he would get to spend time with Arya and Bran, as well as Sansa and Silas. But on the other it meant having to be extra vigilant. He knows that he is lucky in how he is treated in Winterfell, with him being a bastard. But even Jon knows that most bastards are treated with scorn, especially by highborn, and it is worse in the south than in the North, with Dorne being the only exception.

As Jon walked up to take his place he saw Robb stood next to their father. He was dressed in fine woollen trousers that were grey in colour, and had a dark grey doublet on as well. His auburn hair had been trimmed recently, as was his beard. Lady Catlyn wanted him to shave it off completely, but Robb put his foot down.

"I'm twenty years of age, more than a man grown," he had said calmly. "The beard stays unless Cass tells me otherwise." Arya had laughed at that, and gotten into trouble as she was meant to be at her lessons. That was a couple of days ago now. Robb looked calm, but Jon noticed his brother's hands were shaking slightly. Their father, who was dressed similarly to Robb, put a hand on Robb's shoulder and spoke quietly to him. Jon had to resist the urge to laugh. He looked around at the other guests. To one side of the gathering were the guests who came from the south. Silas stood wearing his House colours with pride, his younger brother Joffrey in Lannister red (and still sporting a bruise on his right cheek). Their mother was dressed in a thick red gown with a fur cloak, which Jon realised had the golden lion embroidered repeatedly around its edges. Princess Myrcella stood beside her younger brother Prince Tommen, both wearing black and gold clothing with thick red cloaks, but their cloaks had the black crowned stag of Baratheon embroidered on them. _To honour the Houses of both of their parents_ , Jon thought. Behind them all was Tyrion Lannister, dressed in Lannister red and with his face clean shaven. Jon had gotten to know Tyrion over the duration of the royal visit and has grown to like him. Other southerners were behind the royals, some Jon knew, such as Ser Lukas and the Hound, others he did not know.

Stood around Jon were his fellow northmen. He was stood behind Bran and Rickon, who wore their Stark colours proudly. Sansa, Arya and Lady Catlyn would be stood next to them when they arrived from Cassana's guest chamber. Theon stood beside Jon, dressed in a black doublet and heavy brown leather trousers. He had been clean shaven as well. He was currently running his hand over his jaw.

"Stop worrying Greyjoy, it'll grow back," Jon said to him. Theon shot him a glare.

"How is it that I have to be shaven and you and Robb don't?" he asked bitterly. Jon smirked at him.

"Because we have grown proper beards, not the fluff you normally show," he answered. Theon rolled his eyes and continued to run his hand over his jaw, looking all around the godswood as he did. Jon looked behind him to the other Northmen around. Greatjon Umber, the Lord of Last Hearth, was stood talking to Lord Rickard Karstark of Karhold. Ser Wylis Manderly of Whiteharbour, who was representing his father Lord Wyman, was laughing at some jape along with one of the knights sworn to his father. The Lord of the Dreadfort, Roose Bolton, stood stern faced as always while Lady Dacey Mormont of Bear Island conversed with her mother, Lady Maege, the ruling Lady of Bear Island. Many had come to Winterfell over the last few days when Jon's father sent out the ravens to the lords of the North about the King's visit and the wedding. Some of the lords had brought their daughters as well as their eldest sons. Lord Karstark's daughter stood beside her brother while their father grumbled. Jon remembered that Lord Karstark had wanted to join his House with House Stark by marrying his daughter to Robb, but the girl had failed to charm him. That was quite a few years ago now, and from what Jon learned she was now set to marry the heir to Hornwood. Both of Ser Wylis's girls had travelled with their father, looking all around Winterfell and chatting happily with Jon's siblings whenever they could. However, the youngest daughter of the Greatjon, Lady Sophia, had taken to standing close to Jon. The young Umber had taken an interest in Jon, despite his bastardry. He had to admit that she was pretty enough and had lovely brown hair that came down to her waist, but he was wary of earning the Greatjon's ire. Sophia did not seem to care.

"My father has no prospective husbands for me to choose from, so what does it matter if I lost my maidenhead outside of marriage?" she had whispered to Jon earlier that day. "Plenty girls lose their maidenheads while horse riding, and I love my horse riding. Or rather," she paused as she stroked her hand down Jon's chest, "I just love riding." She was certainly forward with her advances, and quite shameless with it. Now Jon stood a few feet away from her as she stared longingly at him. Jon felt his cheeks blush at the attention.

Just as Jon was getting uncomfortable Lady Catlyn arrived with Sansa and Arya. Jon's father looked her way and shared a smile with her. The women took their places, and soon all the other guests took their places as well. The Septon who would oversee the Andal ceremony stood just a couple of feet away from the weirwood, glancing at it nervously. _Not used to Northern traditions yet,_ Jon thought. _Probably looks down on our ways as being heathen._ Jon's musings were interrupted when Arya stomped on his foot.

"Did you hear me stupid?" she demanded. Jon looked at her blankly, and Arya rolled her eyes in response. "I said do you think father and the King will allow the bedding ceremony?" she said in a hushed tone, obviously trying not to draw her mother's attention, although the disapproving look that Lady Catlyn shot her told Jon that she was not quiet enough. He cleared his throat before answering.

"I'm sure Robb won't give people the chance to let it happen," he said. Arya nodded her head.

"Good," was all she said as she turned around.

"I hope so, it's such a barbaric tradition," Sansa said, who must have been listening in. Jon smirked at the look of shock on Arya's face. Before anything else was said all other talking ceased, and everyone turned to look behind them. Jon heard Theon gasp as he turned, and when he saw Cassana he understood why.

Cassana Baratheon walked up to the weirwood tree, her hand linked through her father's arm. His black and gold clothing was a stark contrast to Cassana's dress. She was standing tall, her black hair styled in an elaborate southern style with plaits and braids. Her hair was held up, exposing her neck to the elements. Her white wedding dress was thick and heavy, with Myrish lacings on the sleeves and bodice. Her blue eyes seemed to sparkle, and her maiden cloak fluttered behind her. Her smile was big, and brought out her natural beauty. She walked up alongside her father, who had a smile as he walked to the weirwood. They stopped several feet away from the weirwood, and Jon watched as his father stepped forward.

"Who comes before the old gods?" Jon's father said, beginning the ceremony.

"Cassana of the House Baratheon, Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, a maid, true and noble," the King said in a loud and clear voice. "She comes to seek the old gods' blessing. Who claims her?" Robb stepped forward so he was stood beside his father.

"Robb of the House Stark, Heir to Winterfell," he spoke. "Who gives her?" The King stood up straighter.

"Robert of the House Baratheon, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Princess Cassana's father," Robert answered. Jon's father then turned to face Cassana.

"Princess Cassana, will you take this man?" Eddard asked. It was silent for what seemed to be a long moment before the Princess spoke.

"Yes," she said, her voice calm and confident. The King then walked further and passed her hand to Robb, who took it eagerly. Jon noticed that his brother's hands had stopped shaking. Both Robb and Cassana then stepped up to the weirwood tree and then knelt. They stayed there and prayed for a short time before they then stood up and stepped back. Once they did the Septon stood in front of them.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection," he droned. Cassana turned her back to Robb, who then removed her black maiden cloak before replacing it with her wedding cloak, which was all white with the grey Direwolf sigil of House Stark embroidered on it. Cassana turned to face Robb and they held each other's hands. The Septon then took a ribbon and wrapped it around their clasped hands. Jon stood and listened as the Andal part of the ceremony took place. "In the sight of the seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them for eternity, one flesh, one heart, one soul. Look upon one another and say the words." Both of them then turned to fully face each other, both smiling. As one they spoke.

"Father, Smith, Warrior. Mother, Maiden, Crone. Stranger. I am hers/his, and she/he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days," they both said in perfect unison. After that they both leaned in and pressed their lips firmly to one another, and the assembled guests clapped their hands in applause as their kiss deepened. Robb and Cassana broke their kiss and then turned to face everyone, both of them smiling wide.

Robb and Cassana led their guests out of the godswood, with their families behind them. Jon stood behind his sisters, next to Theon. As they walked Jon heard Sophia giggling, and looked over his shoulder to see her skipping up to him. Jon heard the Greatjon chuckle, and hoped it was not at him. They walked into the courtyard, and Jon stepped to the side.

"You coming Snow?" Theon asked.

"In a minute," he said. Theon then looked past Jon and then gave him a mischievous grin. Jon rolled his eyes at him as he turned to follow everyone else. Jon and Theon would be sat with the other wards and squires, so it did not matter when he got into the hall. He turned to face Sophia, who had a wide smile on her face. "My lady," Jon said politely. Sophia's smile seemed to get wider.

"Jon," she said. "I was wondering if you would like to dance with me once the dancing gets underway?" Jon mentally chastised himself when he felt like groaning. He looked around for any sign of her father. When he could not see the Greatjon he leaned in closer.

"That would be nice my lady, but I don't think your lord father would approve of his daughter spending time with a bastard like me," he said, hoping it would be enough to send her away without seeming to be too rude. However, Sophia did not seem to be put off.

"My father will be too drunk to care about whatever I do, so long as I don't shame myself in front of him," she said. _Gods she's as stubborn as her father,_ Jon realised. Before he could protest Sophia grabbed his arm and began to drag him into the hall. "Now come on, or we'll be late."

* * *

Cassana Stark nee Baratheon

Cassana sat down on the seat next to Robb, exhausted from dancing for the last thirty minutes or so. They had entered the great hall three hours ago to begin the feast. Musicians played their instruments while the servants delivered the food as serving girls poured wine, mead or ale for the guests. Robb had tucked into the first course, as did Cassana, but after the second course they began to eat at a slower pace, spending time talking to one another and holding their hands. Her father had been downing wine as he was wont to do, while her good-father spoke with Silas and occasionally Robb. Her mother and good-mother were sat speaking with Sansa and Arya. Arya looked like she did not want to be anywhere near Cassana's mother, and she could not blame her. Myrcella and Tommen were chatting away with Bran and Rickon, while Joffrey just sat there with perhaps the most bored expression he has ever had on his face. Cassana looked away from him, for fear of making a scene. Tonight was her wedding night, and she would not let Joffrey spoil it.

Just over thirty minutes ago her father had ordered for space to be made in the room for the dancing, and then Cassana and Robb took to the floor to begin the dancing. They danced together for a good few minutes before swapping partners, Cassana dancing with her father while Robb danced with her mother, both of them looking awkward. Then they swapped again, Cassana dancing with Robb's father and Robb dancing with his own mother. Then they danced together again. As they danced Cassana realised that Robb had improved on his dancing, remembering three years ago at her nameday celebrations. Back then Robb was a terrible dancing partner, although Cassana had only laughed when he stepped on her feet. Now he was dancing with more care. After dancing together they again switched partners, Cassana went to dance with her brother Silas while Robb danced with Sansa. Cassana then danced with her Uncle Tyrion (which with him being a dwarf was always amusing), Tommen, and some of Lord Stark's bannermen. Lord Karstark was an average dancer, but he made her smile with his stories. Lord Bolton was a reasonable dancer, but very cold with his mannerisms. Lord Umber, better known as the Greatjon, was quite a lively dancer, and made her laugh. He was her last dancing partner before she decided to sit down. She looked to Robb, who seemed to be exhausted himself.

"Tired Robb?" she asked. Robb smiled at her.

"Just a bit," he said, making Cassana giggle. "You must be more tired than me after dancing with the Greatjon?" he asked. Cassana nodded in agreement.

"Yes, I am," she said. They both sat there for moment before Cassana realised that she had a question to ask. "Hey, why is it that whenever he looks at Grey Wind, Lord Umber gets all nervous?" Robb sniggered before he sat up straighter in his seat.

"Well, did you notice the missing fingers on one of his hands?" he asked. Cassana thought back to when she danced with him and remembered that he was indeed missing two fingers. Robb then explained how he lost his fingers to Grey Wind after saying he would leave Robb and take his men home. Cassana laughed despite herself.

"He just laughed after losing two fingers?" she asked in amazement. They both laughed for a bit before another question came to her mind. "So where was your father while you and Lords Umber and Karstark dealt with the pirates?" Robb let out a sigh before he looked up to her and answered.

"He was dealing with a problem on Bear Island," he said. "Something to do with increased wildling activity. With him over there it fell to me to assist Lord Karstark, whose lands the pirates landed on." As he finished speaking one of the Northern lords stood up and banged his tankard on the table next to him.

"Well now, I do believe it's past time to put these two to bed," he said. Cassana froze with fear as a few more of the lords laughed and cheered. Of all the things to happen on her wedding night, the bedding ceremony was one that Cassana did not look forward to. She saw the look of embarrassment on Lord Stark's face, and the frustration on her father's face told her that he was not amused. Lady Catlyn looked unimpressed while Cassana's mother just looked indifferent. _I'm about to be humiliated and you don't care?_ she thought. Just as some of the lords started to wander over to their table Robb stood up. Cassana looked up at him and saw the look of cold fury in his eyes.

"And tell me, my lords, which of you shall be the first course for Grey Wind and his littermates?" he asked, his voice loud and commanding. At that Grey Wind and the other Direwolves padded across to them, baring their teeth and snarling at the lords. The lords began to shrink back while Cassana saw her father looking impressed. Out the corner of her eye she saw Arya smirking while Sansa hid her mouth behind her hand, possibly to stifle a laugh. When she looked at her mother Cassana saw the same indifference that she showed earlier, only now she was looking right at her. Their conversation from earlier today played through her mind then.

 _"You will learn to put up with your husband, but you must not let him into your heart," Cersei said to her. They were alone in Cassana's guest chamber. Cassana was just getting ready to have a bath when her mother came in and dismissed the other ladies. Cassana stared at her mother._

 _"Robb is nothing like father, mother," she said defensively. She had been expecting this conversation, but it did not make Cassana any more ready for it._

 _"It matters not my sweet child," the Queen said. "He will take you into bed and he will be rough, like so many men are. He will lay you down and think only of his own pleasure, not yours." Cassana turned away from her mother then. She took a deep breath to calm herself._

 _"So what am I to do with this_ wisdom _of yours mother?" she asked, with a hint of sarcasm when she used the word wisdom. Cersei just stared at her eldest daughter._

 _"Spread your legs and hope he is quick," she stated. "There will be pain but there is nothing to be done about that. Just bear it until he spills his seed into you." Cassana scoffed at her mother's words. They had never enjoyed a close relationship, not since Cassana's seventh nameday at least. Cassana stood there, wondering where all this was coming from. Was it spite, or is her mother simply unfeeling? She shook her head to clear her thoughts before she looked over her shoulder to her mother._

 _"Will that be all?" she spat venomously. Her mother simply nodded her head before she left the room._

The memory of her last conversation with her mother left an unpleasant feeling lingering in her mind. Cassana tried to ignore it, but that was easier said than done. Movement from the corner of her eye brought Cassana back to reality. She looked and saw that her husband was offering his hand to her. She took his hand and stood up from her chair. Robb then looked at the men stood before them and glared at them. The lords all stepped aside, and then Robb led Cassana away from the hall, with Grey Wind and Summer right behind them.

It took them ten minutes to get to Robb's room. Through the whole walk Cassana was nervous. She wanted Robb more than anything, but her mother's earlier words plagued her mind. Robb must have sensed her anxiety because before he opened the door he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. They both kissed each other by the door, their lips moving together. After a few moments they broke the kiss.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Cassana nodded her head, but she still felt nervous. Robb sighed as he opened the door and led her inside. His room was large, with a comfortable yet sturdy looking bed in the middle against the far wall. A fire was roaring in the hearth just to the right. Cassana noticed a vanity was placed in the room, close to the bed. "I had the servants place that there for you," he said. "If you ever need anything else, just let me know." Cassana smiled at him.

"Thank you," she said before stepping up and kissing him. Robb deepened the kiss, closing the door behind him before bringing one hand to her face and the other down to just below her waist. As they kissed Cassana felt Robb's hand squeeze her rear, making her giggle despite their kissing. They stopped kissing briefly to gaze into each other's eyes. Cassana saw the longing in Robb's eyes, and felt her own desire increase.

"We don't have to do this tonight," he said. Cassana smiled widely before giving him a quick kiss.

"They will need proof that our marriage has been consummated," she said. Robb gave her a sly grin.

"You're making it sound like a chore," he replied, making her laugh. "Gods I love that laugh of yours." Cassana smiled.

"Are we going to get undressed now or are we just standing here until the Wall melts?" she japed. Robb chuckled as he stepped back to slide the bolt of the door shut, locking them inside. The Direwolves would stand guard outside to deter unwanted guests from lingering. Once the door was locked Robb stepped closer to Cassana.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked one last time. Cassana rolled her eyes.

"Oh seven hells," she muttered as she brought her hands up to Robb's doublet. She began to unlace his doublet, which encouraged him to do the same with her bodice. They both slowly removed each other's clothing, one piece at a time, frequently stopping to kiss each other. Eventually they were down to their small clothes. Cassana removed the last of Robb's clothes and marvelled his muscular body. He had a fair bit of hair covering his chest, but he was well built. He had a couple of scars on the left side of his body and one long scar from beneath his right arm to just below his hip.

"A token from one of the pirates that I fought last year," Robb said when he saw Cassana looking at it. "The cur decided to try his luck with me, but this was the best that he could do." Cassana traced her fingers along the long scar.

"What became of him?" she asked, not sure if she wanted to know. Robb gave her a slight smile before his face went all serious.

"Swung my longsword and took off his head from the jaw up," he said, making Cassana grimace. She shook her head to clear her mind of any gory thoughts. After a moment she looked further down his body, and then her eyes saw his hardened length. _Gods he's big,_ she thought. Cassana blushed with embarrassment before she began to panic slightly. _He is so big he will tear into me. Gods what if he…_ Her thoughts were interrupted when Robb stepped closer and began to kiss her neck. He trailed kisses down to her shoulder, making her shudder.

"Robb," Cassana moaned when she felt his hands squeeze her rear again. It felt good, she did not know why but it felt good. His hands began to travel up her back before resting on her shoulders. She started to kiss his forehead, and brought her hands to Robb's shoulders. She threw her head back when Robb nipped a spot on her neck next to her throat, moaning at the pleasurable feeling. After a moment Cassana giggled. And then she felt her shift sliding down her body.

As the silky material pooled at her feet, Cassana looked down at her body. She shuddered as Robb looked over her exposed figure. It was the first time that she had ever bared her body to anyone. She felt a little bit nervous at letting Robb see her this way. When she looked up to look at him she saw Robb smiling.

"You're perfect," he whispered as he closed the gap between them. Cassana leant her head back as Robb lowered his head, and they began kissing again. They pressed their lips against each other, kissing harder, more passionately than they have ever done. As they did Robb guided them to the bed, until Cassana felt her legs hit the bed frame. They stood there kissing one another for a little bit longer, their bodies pressed together. Cassana felt Robb's hard length pressing against her thigh while he continued to kiss to her. Soon they parted their mouths to breath, and after a few moments Robb started to caress her breasts, squeezing and kissing them. Cassana gasped and moaned as Robb continued with his ministrations, fisting her hands in his auburn hair.

"Gods, Robb," she mumbled as his kisses travelled down to her navel, the bristles of his beard scratching and tickling her skin as he did. Cassana bit her lip when Robb traced his tongue down to her thigh, before he then started to kiss her _there_. Cassana cried out with lustful joy as he began to pleasure her with his mouth. "What are you… what are…" she mumbled, but could not get the words out as the most incredible feeling overcame her. She moaned louder as she felt Robb slide a finger inside her. He continued to slide his finger in and out, waves of pleasure washing over Cassana. She began to feel weak at the knees, and she placed a hand on Robb's shoulder when she started to sway. After a few minutes the knots in her stomach unwound and Cassana cried out, her walls tightening around Robb's finger and then she was done. Cassana began to pant as Robb stood back up and captured her lips with his. Cassana giggled with delight when she tasted herself on Robb's tongue. Their kiss was brief though, as Robb stood back. Cassana looked up at him, still panting.

"Not what you expected?" he asked with a grin. Cassana returned his grin, cupping his face with her hands.

"That was incredible," she said as she pulled him down closer to her. She only managed a brief kiss before Robb bent down to lift her up and then place her down on his… no, on their bed. She laughed as Robb lay down beside her, trailing his hands over her belly before grasping one of her breasts. She gazed at him, and she realised that she wanted him now more than ever. All her previous insecurities and anxieties were now forgotten. "I'm ready Robb," she said. Robb leant in closer and brushed his lips against her cheek.

"Truly?" he asked. Cassana looked into his Tully blue eyes, and saw softness in him. Cassana nodded her head. She was ready.

Robb shifted himself so that he could rest his knees between her legs, and then he began to gently parted them. Cassana spread her legs apart for him and watched as he slid his hand along the inside of her thigh. After a brief moment Robb then took his length in his other hand and guided himself to her entrance. She felt wet, and she felt that she was definitely ready. Robb then leant down over her body, bringing one arm to her side to support himself so as not to crush her beneath him. Cassana felt the tip of his length brushing her entrance.

"I'm sorry Cass," he said, his voice with a hint of worry. Cassana nodded her head.

"I know, but the pain will be brief," she reassured him. "And it will be worth it." They looked into each other's eyes again, and Cassana lifted her head up to kiss Robb. As their lips parted Cassana felt his length enter her and break through her maidenhead. She winced at the brief jab of pain and hissed. Robb stayed still for quite a while, letting her get used to him being inside her. Cassana moaned at his presence within her. It felt strange, uncomfortable. But after a short time she was used to him being in her. Robb leant down and kissed her gently.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Cassana nodded her head, biting down on her lip. "If you want me to stop at any point, tell me to, oka…" Cassana silenced him with her lips. She adored Robb for being considerate, but it was getting a bit boring now. When she parted her lips from his she looked at him and gave him a wide grin.

"Just shut up and fuck me already," she said in a voice that could have been commanding if it were not for her wide grin. They crashed their lips together and after a minute Robb began to thrust himself into her. Cassana moaned as he thrust, the feeling of his length sliding in and out was beyond incredible. She pulled her lips back from Robb's and let her moans escape. The sound of her made Robb thrust a little faster. Waves of pleasure now rushed through her body. Cassana arched her back up, pressing her breasts into Robb's chest. They lost themselves in each other; everything else did not matter, only they mattered. She moaned and gasped while he growled and grunted. They moved their hips together, matching each other's pace. Cassana felt herself tighten around Robb's length. She wanted to keep on going for as long as possible. She needed to keep on going. Cassana felt one of Robb's hands slide down her thigh, and then he lifted the leg up above his waist. Cassana lifted her other leg up and then she wrapped her legs around him. When Robb thrust again Cassana felt him go deeper than before. She cried out as even more pleasure jolted her body. Robb was going faster now, and harder. Cassana enjoyed it all. She moaned as Robb thrust further and harder, making her tighten even more until she felt herself near her end.

"Cass," Robb growled out.

"Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods," she kept repeating breathlessly as Robb's thrusts continued. After a while Cassana felt herself reach her end, and when she did she gave a loud, almost ear-splitting shout of joy as she came crashing down around Robb's length. "Oh gods, Robb," she yelled out as Robb gave one final thrust and spilled his seed into her.

They lay there, their bodies drenched in sweat, Robb still on top of and inside her. Cassana panted as she gazed longingly at him. She felt his hand come to her face then, the fingers gently brushing her cheek. Robb rested his forehead against hers, a smile forming on his face. Cassana returned the smile. They just lay there for a long time, not moving from each other.

"That was…" Cassana struggled to find the right words. Robb simply put a finger to her lips before kissing her. A soft press to her own lips rather than a full deep kiss.

"I know," he said. He began to move but Cassana stopped him.

"Where did you learn to do all that?" she asked. Once she realised what she had asked she wished that she had not. It was a stupid question to ask. At once she feared for what would happen, for what Robb would do. However, Robb simply gave her a sad smile. "Oh, tell me you did not take a whore before me?" she asked. Robb gave her a strange look before he burst out laughing. When Cassana glared at him he stopped and regained his composure.

"Theon Greyjoy, my father's ward," he said. "When you hang around him all you hear about is how he likes his women, and how best to please them. That's all I've ever done is listen to his never ending muttering. So I suppose you could say that he has given me a few pointers, if you will," he said with some embarrassment. Cassana sighed before giving her husband a smile.

"Well, I had better learn what else your Ironborn friend has spoken about when it comes to us women and how best to please us," she said teasingly. Robb just stared dumbstruck at her before he burst out laughing again. It was a sound that Cassana loved. They closed the gap and kissed one another before Robb began to thrust into Cassana again. They made love to each other several times that night, stopping only to get their breath back before doing it all over again. When they were finally spent Robb lay on his back with Cassana sprawled on top of him, with one arm around her back while the other was clasped in her hand. Cassana rested her head against Robb's chest and listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Cassana eventually drifted off to sleep not long after Robb had fallen asleep. As she drifted off she realised that she had proved to herself that her mother had been wrong; Robb did not simply take his own pleasure, but had given her near endless pleasure as well. Cassana Baratheon fell asleep smiling, and when she awoke the next morning she would look forward to her life as Cassana Stark.

* * *

Frieda, the Lady of Shadows

The streets of King's Landing were nearly deserted, save for drunken inn patrons. Men laughed while women giggled. Down side alleys the sounds of men taking their pleasure with women could be heard, the moans of women be they whores or ordinary common women echoing from said alleys. Every now and then there was a fist fight, most friendly and organised, but one or two were anything but friendly. A man cried out as another slid a dagger into his back when one such fight ended. The killer started to run away, but not before Frieda saw his face. The killer had short dirty blonde hair, cold hazel eyes and a long scar on his left cheek. He was skinny but tall, and when he spoke he had a Braavosi accent. This was the man that she was after. Word in the city was that a Braavosi whose description matched this man's features had been stalking the streets at night, picking fights with men and then stabbing them in the back. Frieda had been looking for him for three weeks now. Any other serial killer she would not take an interest in unless such a fool happened across her. This man was said to have a connection to Littlefinger, so Frieda wanted to have a talk with him; one that would end with the man's death.

As the man ran down an alley Frieda gave chase. She was fast on her feet, and strong despite her small size. At twenty, she was an intelligent young woman, having worked for the Spider for many years, since she was about seven or eight. She was ten when she had been caught by the Crown Prince after she made a silly error while following him. Since then Silas and Cassana have made use of her, and after a while they all began to trust one another. She would not call them her friends, but she trusted them to look after their own. It was what Frieda liked about them; their love and respect for the small folk. She thought about what Silas would do to this man if it were him chasing him. The man knew he was being followed, so he decided to duck into a darker alley. Frieda smiled to herself as she knew this alley. There was only a solid wall at the end with only a window on one wall twenty feet up and another one on the opposite wall at the same level, but with solid iron bars in front of it. The alley offered little cover for hiding. The man had run into a death trap. She rounded the corner and saw no sign of him. She smirked despite the feeling of disappointment. She had hoped for a long chase, but no matter.

"You can't hide forever fool," she hissed as she stalked carefully down the alley. "I've been outrunning the Gold Cloaks since I could walk. I know every nook and cranny of Flea Bottom there is to know. I'm intimately familiar with the Street of Silk, and know my way around the Street of Steel. In fact I know all of this city like the back of my hand, so tell me, how do you intend to evade me?" There was silence for a time before the man responded.

"I don't," came the Braavosi accent. "I'm going to kill you." Frieda chuckled despite the threat. _Stupid foolish man,_ she thought.

"Is that it? No 'I'm going to fuck you bloody before I slit your throat'? No 'I shall disembowel you and tear you heart out and devour it before you die'?" Frieda was answered with silence. She laughed again, this time it was a wicked laugh that unsettled many people. "I've been dealing with idiots like you for a long time, but I must admit that I have never met someone so bloody dull." As she spoke she saw sudden movement to her left, and a brief flash of metal in the moonlight. In one swift motion Frieda jumped back and spun her body around, slashing out with her short-sword as she did. Her blade sliced the man's arm from elbow to wrist, making him drop his dagger. In the next instant she stabbed the point into his left knee, forcing a scream of pain to escape his mouth. She kicked his other knee and then slashed his calf muscles on both legs, forcing him to the ground.

The man moaned in pain as Frieda kicked his dagger away from them. The Braavosi glared hatefully at her, his face contorted with anger. She stood five feet from him and knelt down before him, smirking at him. She held her sword in her hands, one on the grip while the other gently held the blade itself.

"Well as hunts go I must say I am beyond disappointed," she said to the man, who grimaced in pain. "I've chased down more livelier foes then you." The Braavosi spat at her, but the spittle flew past her head. "Well that was rather wasted effort now, wasn't it?"

"Ah, go fuck yourself," he snarled. Frieda giggled, which seemed to annoy the man as he tried to stand back up.

"Oh I might just go and get fucked after we're done here," she said when he gave up trying to get back onto his feet. "I would love to have a big man pound me and get me all wet. Hunting gets me all excited, and I sometimes need a release." The Braavosi looked at her with a look of astonishment.

"You're crazy to talk of such things in this present situation," he growled out.

"A situation of your own doing, let's not forget," she pointed out as she raised her blade and pressed the tip against the man's left shoulder. She pushed her blade into the man, drawing blood and making him wince in pain. "I know you are being paid to kill people. I must admit that I'm impressed at the man in question. Paying a mad dog killer to kill people who cross him and letting you run loose to do as you please. Very smart. Well, almost." Frieda pressed her sword further into his shoulder, and soon the Braavosi began to cry out.

"Littlefinger pays me to kill people who are a threat," he said. Frieda smiled at his foolishness. _I didn't even need to do much to get him to confirm to me who his employer is,_ she thought. The man looked back to her and saw the smile on her lips. As he opened his mouth to speak Frieda withdrew her sword from his shoulder, blood spurting out from the wound. He yelled in pain and tried to lunge at her, but Frieda was ready for such a move, and so she threw herself to her right. When she rolled back onto her feet she heard a dull thud as the man fell onto the ground.

"So pathetic," she muttered as she stood up and wandered over to him. She put her boot on his back and pushed him back down into the filthy ground. "You are going to tell me why Littlefinger wants you to kill people and why he wants particular folk dead." The Braavosi gave a dry laugh.

"I'll tell you nothing, because I get told nothing save for names and times," he said. Frieda smiled.

"That'll do for starters," she said.

For the next hour Frieda interrogates (or rather tortures) the man. He holds out for a time, but every man has his breaking point. Soon he tells Frieda what she wants to know, and it is very little. Littlefinger has been using his victims for money and influence, and has them killed when they either outlive their usefulness or prove to be troublesome for him. He seizes their assets under the pretence of seizing assets to pay for outstanding taxes and debts or some other ludicrous reason that he can spin, and when that is not enough he sends the Braavosi to rough them up and convince them to pay. He confirms that he is a hired thug as much as a hired blade. Frieda smiles at his answers, but still it is not enough. She pushes her gloved fingers into another of the wounds that she has inflicted upon him and wriggles her fingers inside him, causing him major discomfort.

"Please, mercy," he cries out. Frieda frowns with disappointment as she knows she will not get more out of him. She has got some names from him but not much else. The names of lowly lords within King's Landing and around the Crownlands. It is not a lot to go on for her investigations, but it will have to do for now. _Time to end this before a patrol arrives to investigate my handiwork,_ she decides. "I've told you everything I know," the Braavosi whimpered. Frieda pulled her fingers out of the wound and leant down to him, shushing him as he continued to whimper.

"It's alright now," she cooed. "You have done well my good man." She leant down further to his face, her lips a fraction of an inch from his cheek. "I believe you when you say you've told me everything." Her voice was calming, almost gentle. When the Braavosi seemed to relax she sat back up, and when she did she glared at him. "But it is not enough to save you," she stated coldly, her face hardened. As the man's eyes widened she pressed her sword to his throat.

"No…" he managed to get out before Frieda slid the edge of her blade across his throat. Blood gushed out of the open slit, and started bubbling from his mouth as well. The Braavosi gurgled and gasped as his blood ran out from his opened throat and his mouth. She sat straddled over him for a minute longer, as she had been for the last ten minutes of her interrogation. When the man finally stopped gurgling she stood up, looking down on him. His chest no longer rose or fell. He was dead. Wiping her blade Frieda walked away, leaving the body to be discovered in the morning. As she walked away she hoped that it would not be a child to discover him.

Frieda wandered the streets for another couple of hours, seemingly minding her own business while observing her surroundings. All around the city was quiet, but then again it usually was during the middle of the night. Frieda kept walking until she came across her destination; an inn near the road leading from the Iron Gate, perhaps a dozen yards from the square where all of the roads in the city met. She entered the inn's back door, shrugging off her coat and passing it to one of the innkeeper's daughters to clean. She tossed six silvers to her to clean her coat and the gloves that she had stashed within; the girl knew what she did and helped her whenever she could. It helped Frieda that the girl was a mute so she did not need to worry about her telling anyone what she was doing. After ensuring the girl set about her task Frieda entered a small room and took her boots, tunic and breeches off before replacing them with a dress more commonly found on tavern wenches. She then entered the main room and began to help the innkeeper with running the inn.

"You took your time Petal," he said, addressing Frieda by his nickname for her. Frieda gave him her most sweet and innocent smile.

"One of the patrons from last week cornered me," she lied easily. "He was all charming and kind, and when his breeches dropped I just had to help him pull them back up. Although it did take ten minutes to get them back up." The innkeeper rolled his eyes before picking up an empty tankard and cleaning it quickly.

"Well try not to fuck anymore of my patrons tonight please," he asked. "I don't want my inn being treated like some blasted whorehouse." Frieda gave him a toothy smile.

"I only do that with the best looking patrons," she said sweetly. "And I always do such stuff away from here, so stop worrying." She picked up a tankard of ale and passed it to the man who was clearly waiting for it.

The rest of the night (or at least the next hour) was quiet. A few Gold Cloaks came in while off duty and a couple of ne'er do wells showed up. One man who stood out was wearing brown robes and sat by himself. He was alone for a short time before another man joined him, this one wearing simple rags. They conversed quietly for a couple of minutes, but Frieda got some snippets of their conversation. She knew straight away that it was Varys in the robes, but she did not know the other. They talked in hushed tones, but Frieda learned very little. What she heard was about events within the Red Keep that she was already aware of, such as the appointment of Lord Stark as the new Hand and the arrangement of a rather expensive tourney to honour his appointment. The only thing that caught her attention was talk of a 'dragoness in the east' that had been found recently, but just as quickly had vanished. _That can only be the last Targaryen that they are on about,_ Frieda thought. She learned no more than that for the rest of the night. The two men then left shortly after, Varys first, then the other. The rest of the night was long and dull. When the last patron left Frieda retired for the night and sat down in her room. She pulled out her sword and hid it beneath her pillow before laying down to get some sleep. Before Frieda drifted off to sleep, she thought of what the next day would bring, and whether or not she will be one step closer to bringing down Littlefinger and exposing his lies and plots.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN** : New chapter guys. Sorry it took longer than the last chapter to put up. When I started this fic I was on a week long break from work, so I had plenty of time to write. Now I'm back at work, so updates will be slow. I will get chapters up as I get them written.

Anyway, here is chapter three. Just in case it was not clear before hand Cersei is OOC during this fic.

And quick disclaimer (which I realised I probably should have put up last chapter as well)= **I own nothing except my OCs. GoT and ASoIaF belong to GRRM.**

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

Tyrion Lannister

Tyrion groaned as he slowly woke up, his head pounding from last night. He had consumed an awful lot of drink; not as much as a few nights ago, but still quite a lot. Just enough, it seemed, that he had no recollection of how he had ended up in the kennels with all of the dogs. He looked around at all the dogs, who seemed to not care that they had a dwarf for company. As he sat up Tyrion noticed that one of his nephews was stood by the fence of the kennel. And with the Hound standing there, he knew exactly which nephew it was.

"Better looking bitches than what you're usually used to waking up next to?" Joffrey teased. Tyrion grunted as he stood up and began to wander to the gate. He waddled out, closing the gate firmly before going to his nephew.

"Enough of your cheek now Joffrey," he said. "We have much to prepare for, and we are short on time if I'm not mistaken. I expect you to have made your thanks to Lady Stark for the hospitality of her family during our stay." At that Joffrey scoffed. Of all of his sister's children Joffrey was the one that Tyrion did not like. _Thank the gods that Silas is the firstborn,_ he thought.

"What good are my thanks?" the brat asked incredulously, as if such a thing were beneath him. _Everything is beneath him,_ Tyrion thought.

"To show your appreciation for the kind lady and her family," Tyrion stated, his voice barely containing his frustration. Joffrey smirked and looked over to the Hound. Sandor Clegane has been Joffrey's sworn shield since the boy was eight, and Tyrion has felt sorry for the man ever since.

"The woman means nothing to me," Joffrey muttered. "Why should I worry about showing my appreciation to someone so far beneath me, especially a Northman's whore?" Tyrion went red with rage at Joffrey's disrespectful attitude. When the brat turned to face him Tyrion slapped his hand across Joffrey's left cheek as hard as he could.

"Any more disrespect and I'll hit you again," Tyrion snapped, his voice raised.

"I'M TELLING MOTHER!" Joffrey shouted, earning himself another slap.

"Then go and tell her," Tyrion said. "But first you will go to Lady Stark, you will bow before her as if she were royalty and not you and you will tell how much you enjoyed her family's hospitality and that you look forward to it again in the future. Do you understand?" Joffrey loomed over Tyrion in a final bid to intimidate him.

"You can't…" Tyrion interrupted him with another slap, this time across his bruised cheek, causing him to whimper.

"Do… you… understand?" he said once more. Joffrey looked at him while nursing his cheek and after a moment he stormed off. Tyrion shook his head in dismay. _How my good-brother fathered such an ignorant little shit I'll never know,_ he thought. He watched as Joffrey stomped away to the main keep of Winterfell.

"The prince will remember that little lord," the Hound said with barely contained amusement. A soft sounding laugh caught Tyrion's attention before he could respond. He turned to face the source of the laugh to find Lady Sansa walking to them, with her Direwolf standing by her side. The wolf came up to Sansa's elbow when stood up on all four legs, and was the prettiest of all the Direwolves. Tyrion believed that the Direwolf's name of Lady was aptly chosen.

Lady Sansa came to a stop just three feet away from Tyrion and the Hound. She did not seem to be put off at being in the company of these two men, one being a scarred man with a reputation for being as fiercely violent as his elder brother, the other with a reputation for his drinking and whoring ways. Instead she gave both of them her brightest smile.

"That was rather enjoyable to watch, my lord," she said in a polite and kind voice. "Normally I would never laugh at anyone's misfortune, especially if said misfortune comes in the form of violence. But in Prince Joffrey's case I can make an exception." Tyrion gave Sansa a small chuckle.

"Well I must say my lady that I do take some pleasure out of giving the brat some discipline here and there," he responded. Sansa nodded her head in understanding.

"Some people require more discipline than others," she said. "I only hope that the prince grows up sooner rather than later, for his own sake at least. Otherwise I fear what my sister will do to him." Her face showed a hint of worry, but Tyrion is very good at reading people, or so he likes to think he is. One look at Sansa's eyes and he knows her worry is false. Tyrion also knows about the little display the day after the royal party arrived, where Joffrey was beaten by Silas and the others over some harsh words he had spoken to Sansa's sister Arya. Deciding not to bring up that topic, Tyrion just continued to smile and take a step closer.

"Anyway, despite our little entertainment this morning I am rather eager to see my lovely niece before we depart. I don't suppose you know where we can find her, do you?" he asked Sansa. The eldest Stark girl nodded her head and took a step closer to him, something that most noble women never did. If anything they usually took a step back from him.

"I believe we will find her in the godswood just now, with my brother Robb," Sansa answered. Tyrion raised an eyebrow at that.

"Converting to the old gods, is she?" he asked light-heartedly, making Sansa chuckle.

"No, at least I don't think that to be the case. I saw them head out early this morning while everyone else was still either asleep or just rising," she said. Before she continued her face turned into a frown. "I would have assumed that they were going to take an early morning swim in the hot springs, but I noticed that my brother was carrying two wooden training swords." Tyrion would have been as startled as Sansa was by this if he did not know his niece very well. Ever since she could walk Cassana has always wanted to do whatever Silas could do, including sword fighting. He remembered once hearing how Robert had found Cassana playing with a wooden sword and beating the other boys who wanted to stop her from doing something that 'a princess should never do' as they were said to have put it. Instead of stopping her altogether Robert had laughed and encouraged Cassana to keep playing, and eventually to actually train, much to Cersei's displeasure.

"I think we should go and interrupt their 'swimming' session then my lady," Tyrion said. "Would you be so kind as to show me where they would likely be?" Sansa gave Tyrion a slightly nervous smile and offered her hand. Tyrion took her hand and followed by her side as they went into the godswood, while the Hound wandered off to find Joffrey.

Tyrion had never been in a Northern godswood before his niece's wedding. It just seemed like any other godswood like those in the south, until he had seen the heart tree. In the south a grand oak served as a heart tree, but in the North a weirwood tree was the heart tree. The weirwood tree has a white trunk with a face carved into it, with blood red sap seemingly oozing out of the carved face. For some reason Tyrion felt at ease when near it, while Robert and Cersei were a bit uncomfortable around it. The tall sentinel trees that surrounded the weirwood were what Tyrion and Sansa have just walked past. Lady was trotting ahead of them, and continued to do so until they got to a rock about ten feet away from the nearest sentinel tree. Lady gave a soft bark, and a moment later was joined by Grey Wind, the Direwolf of Robb Stark. In the distance they could hear the thwacking sound of wooden training swords hitting each other. After a minute of listening they heard a bark of laughter from Robb.

"That's cheating," Tyrion heard Cassana yell out. Tyrion smirked as he tried to picture in his head what Robb could have done to be accused of cheating.

"Where you are concerned it's the only way to get you on your back," Robb said. Tyrion grimaced at the words and noticed Sansa shudder at her brother's words as well. Sansa let go of Tyrion's hand before she walked slightly ahead of him.

"Robb! Cassana!" Sansa called out loudly to alert them of their presence. Tyrion heard Robb and Cassana grumbling at being disturbed. He followed Sansa as she wandered to where Cassana and Robb were, and he nearly laughed at the state of Cassana's hair, which was a right mess. She looked around and started to straighten her hair once she saw Tyrion, doing her best to look innocent. Tyrion took in her overall appearance. She was wearing a pair of woollen breeches and black leather riding boots, and had a dark green shirt under her black coat; the sort of clothing that her mother hated seeing her wear.

"Uncle Tyrion," Cassana said after she finished straightening her hair. "I'm surprised to see you here." She gave him a wide smile which Tyrion returned.

"Oh I didn't want our last conversation to be when I actually left," he said. "Far better to converse with one another before I depart." Cassana walked over to him and knelt down to give him a quick hug.

"Well I'm sure this won't be our last ever conversation," she said. Tyrion gave her a smirk.

"True, but it'll be a long time before we next talk," he responded. The two of them looked over to Robb and Sansa, who were busy talking to each other. Cassana stood up and walked a few feet away to give them a little privacy, with Tyrion close behind. "So, how is married life treating you so far?" he asked. Cassana just smiled as she sat down on the ground.

"It seems agreeable so far," she answered. "I'm enjoying life with Robb, at the moment. He's kind, gentle, sweet, a little too considerate." Tyrion raised his brow at that comment.

"Is he far too nice, or something?" he asked. Cassana gave a little chuckle before she answered him.

"Robb doesn't seem to be the sort to argue at all. I suppose that's good, but you know me uncle," she said to him with a cheeky smile. "Life gets too dull if you don't get the occasional argument." Tyrion hummed his agreement with that statement. They both looked at Robb and Sansa as they talked to each other. Tyrion noticed that Sansa had a worried look on her face as she spoke with her elder brother. Robb just leaned against the tree that he was stood next to and listened to her, talking only every now and then.

"It seems that Robb has taken after his father," Tyrion noted. Cassana murmured in agreement.

"He listens to people when they have something to say," she said just as Robb burst out laughing at something his sister said. "His father told me that he wasn't always this way. Apparently he was a little too hot headed before he went down to King's Landing. Though truth be told, I'm sure I had quite an effect on him." Tyrion noticed the look of longing on his niece's face as she stared at her husband. Tyrion knew that look; it was the look that Cassana's father had whenever he saw a woman whose thighs he wanted to get between. _It seems Robert's love of fucking has passed down to his daughter,_ he thought. He shuddered at the very thought and quickly changed the topic from Robb.

"Well, I'm sure you will miss King's Landing now, won't you?" Tyrion asked. At that Cassana scoffed.

"I'll miss you uncle," she said. "And Silas, Myrcella, Tommen, father. Seven hells, I'll even miss my mother, though only just." Tyrion turned to look at her properly.

"But not Joffrey?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer to that. Cassana shook her head.

"Gods, no," she said. "The farther away that little shit is from me, the better. He may be my brother, but I've no love for him." Tyrion nodded his head in agreement. Before he could say anything he was distracted by the sound of Sansa laughing loudly. It was a very unladylike laugh.

"Must be something good to get her laughing like that," Tyrion said. Cassana shrugged her shoulders. She wandered over to them as Sansa's laughter died down.

"Now then Robb, what jape was it that you shared with Sansa here that made her laugh so?" she asked. Robb looked at her, his face red from laughing. Tyrion looked at Sansa and saw that she was still red faced herself.

"I'll tell you later Cass," he said as he leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Tyrion cleared his throat then, drawing their attention.

"Well, I hate to interrupt further than I already have done, but I don't suppose we could start heading back to the great hall and get some breakfast, can we?" he asked. "It's a long trip back to King's Landing, and I'd rather have a full belly when I leave here. No doubt I'll not get much decent food in me once we have left Winterfell." Robb gave him a small laugh as he folded his arms in front of his chest.

"I reckon we could head off just now," he said. As they started to walk back to the main keep Robb turned to look at Tyrion. "Although I wouldn't say anything negative about the quality of food you'll find at Lord Cerwyn's keep once you're there. He might take offence if you do." Tyrion chuckled as they walked out of the godswood.

After having breakfast and a long conversation with Cassana and Robb the next few hours were spent in preparation for the journey. Tyrion did not have much to do, so he spent what little time he had left in Winterfell's library. He was impressed with the size of the library, as well as the collection of books in there. He made a mental note to thank Maester Luwin before he left Winterfell. As he sat reading one hefty tome about the Kings of Winter he noticed Silas wander in, looking smug. Tyrion looked up to his favourite nephew and smiled at him.

"Let me guess," he started, "you punched Joffrey's face in again?" Silas laughed at the question.

"No, but I did hear that you gave him an earful," he answered. "I do hope you realise that he will do nothing but whine for the duration of our trip back home." Tyrion shrugged his shoulders.

"Yes well, he was being very rude about Lady Stark," he said. "Besides, I'm sure his inane whining is something that we're all used to by now." Silas smirked at that. He sat down on the chair across from Tyrion and leaned forward, clasping his hands together and resting them on the table. "So, what's with the smug look you've got?" Tyrion asked. Silas gave Tyrion his usual mischievous grin, the kind he used to give him when he did something he should not have done. These days though that grin was reserved for when he had beaten someone, be it in a sparring session or some other similar contest.

"Jory Cassel, Lord Eddard's guard captain?" he started. Tyrion nodded his head; he knew the nephew of Winterfell's master-at-arms. Long brown hair, thick stubble, a scar on his face near one of his eyes. The young man was going to be traveling with Lord Stark on the trip down to the capitol. "Well, the two of us had a little wager last night," Silas continued. "We placed a bet on whether little Arya could outride me or not in a quick horse race. Jory said that Arya is very much like her Aunt Lyanna, who was said to be a skilled horse rider herself. I told him she didn't stand a chance against me. We bet on twenty gold dragons and a cask of mead that I would emerge victorious." Silas paused to look at Tyrion, to see if his uncle would say anything or not. Tyrion simply raised his eyebrow and inclined his head slightly, silently telling him to continue. "Well, let's just say that Arya took some comfort in knowing that Jory owes me some gold and a cask of mead." Tyrion chuckled. The two of them sat in silence for some time before the Maester walked in.

"Oh, beg pardon my prince, my lord," he said. "The royal party is leaving in the next ten minutes or so, if you'd like to head down to the courtyard." Silas looked at the old man.

"Eager to get rid of me already Maester Luwin?" Silas asked. The old Maester gave a kind smile.

"Of course not, my prince," he said. "But your father was wondering where you could possibly be, and thought that you may be trying to remain here at Winterfell." Silas stood up from the chair, followed quickly by Tyrion. Tyrion closed the book he had been reading and walked to the shelf he got it from before placing it there. When he turned around he saw that Silas was quietly thanking Luwin for something or other, but chose to remain where he was. After a moment Silas turned to him.

"Ready uncle?" he asked. Tyrion smiled as he walked over to them.

"I am indeed," he said. When he was stood next to his nephew Tyrion looked up at Luwin. "Oh, and before I forget, I would like to thank you very much Maester Luwin for allowing me the pleasure of having access to this wonderful library. It was nice to have somewhere to retreat to when I wished to avoid my sweet sister." Luwin gave Tyrion a slight smile.

"Of course Lord Tyrion, I am glad that you enjoyed spending time in here," he said. "It is good to see these old tomes being read. Not since Prince Silas's first visit have I seen anyone come here on a regular basis." Tyrion bowed slightly before he joined his nephew as they left for the courtyard. It took them several minutes to navigate the corridors of Winterfell before they finally found themselves outside. Tyrion walked over to his own horse, and was helped into the saddle by Silas. Once he was secure Tyrion looked over to where Lord Stark was stood. The man was saying a final farewell to his wife and youngest son. Lady Stark quickly wiped her face of any tears before wrapping her arms around her husband in a tight embrace. They stood like that for a minute, sharing a chuckle before they kissed each other. When they were done Lord Stark knelt down to be at eye level with Rickon. He spoke with him briefly before embracing him. He stood up and patted Rickon's Direwolf before walking over to his heir. Robb stood tall and proud, every inch a Northern lord. He had a stony expression until he spoke with his father. The two shared a brief embrace before Lord Stark turned to Cassana. He spoke a few words with her before they also embraced one another. When he was done with his farewells those of his children travelling with him made their farewells. Jon Snow embraced Robb while Sansa and Arya bid their mother and Rickon goodbye. Bran stood back from them, looking a touch nervous before he stepped forward to his mother. Lady Stark pulled him close and embraced him as Robb said goodbye to his sisters. Jon and Lady Stark then said goodbye to each other as well, although theirs was somewhat awkward. Everyone said goodbye to Cassana as well. Once that was all done the Starks going south turned away and walked over to their horses.

As Lord Stark climbed onto his horse Robert strode over to him. Tyrion's good-brother smiled at him as his horse got closer. Tyrion urged his horse forward slightly so he could hear them talk. As he got closer he saw Robb wander over to them. Robert looked down at the man. Tyrion looked at him as well, and saw that he was carrying a greatsword on his back.

"Well lad, I hope you don't have to use that sword too often," Robert said nodding at the weapon. Robb looked over his shoulder to the grip of the sword and nodded his head.

"As do I your grace," he said. "But it is time that I learned to use a greatsword now. Ice is the ancestral weapon of House Stark, and as the new Lord of Winterfell I should be ready to use it." The two of them looked at each other for a short time before Robert looked over to his daughter. Tyrion looked over his shoulder to see Cassana stood with her hands clasped together, a small smile on her face.

"Well, I shouldn't have to say this, but just so it is clear, I expect you to look after Cass," Robert said in a stern voice. "If you mistreat her in anyway…"

"Then I'll die a horrible death," Robb interrupted. "Prince Silas has already warned me so. But I'm pretty sure that Cass would kill me long before either of you got the chance." With that the two of them laughed heartily, with Tyrion and Lord Stark joining them. After they were done laughing Lord Stark looked down to Robb.

"Rule the North well, my son," he said. "Be kind but firm, just but fair, and the North will be kind to you." Robb looked up to his father with what Tyrion thought to be a look of reverence in his eyes.

"I will father," he said. Robb stood back before bowing slightly to Robert. "Your grace," he said before turning to join Cassana and his mother and little brother. As he did Robert urged his horse to turn.

"RIGHT YOU LOT!" he bellowed. "LET'S BE ON OUR WAY!" With that the royal party began the journey back to King's Landing. Tyrion looked behind him one last time to see Cassana wave at him, a slightly sad look in her eyes. Tyrion waved back before he urged his own mount onwards.

* * *

Robb Stark

Two weeks have now passed since his father left to go south with the King. Winterfell felt empty to begin with. The old castle just did not feel right without father, Jon, Sansa, Arya and Bran. Even with Jory gone the place felt empty, but after a few days Robb got used to it. He fell into a regular routine with Cassana. Even Rickon got used to the emptiness that seemed to descend on Winterfell. Robb's mother took a bit longer to get used to being without his father, but Cassana had helped out with keeping his mother busy. The two of them got along well, and Cassana followed Robb's mother around to learn more about what she would be doing as Lady of Winterfell. For Robb, every day was more or less the same. He would wake up with Cassana, and sometime make love to her, before getting washed and changed. Then they would both go downstairs to have breakfast before going their separate ways to carry out their duties. For Robb it was usually going around Winterfell, checking on Ser Rodrik as he trained the guardsmen as well as checking the stables, kennels and anywhere else that needed checking before going to the great hall to see to any of the small folk coming with petitions. After that he would go and train for a short time before going to have lunch (or the afternoon meal if it was late for lunch) and then going to deal with any paperwork that he needed to do, sometimes with Maester Luwin's help. Then it would be the evening meal and then retiring for the night, where he and Cassana would make love before falling asleep. Nearly three weeks of marriage and Robb still enjoyed their night time activities. Cassana had amazed Robb with her sexual appetite. She just could not get enough of him at times, but Robb was not complaining.

Today started just as any other day for Robb. He and Cassana woke up and took pleasure from each other before getting cleaned up and going down for breakfast. They ate and talked before going about their duties. Cassana walked with Robb's mother as she went to go over the numbers with Maester Luwin. Robb left the great hall to observe Ser Rodrik as he trained a new batch of guardsmen, shouting at them in a loud voice that made the younger ones wince, much like Robb and Jon once did the first time Ser Rodrik trained them. He watched for some time before he decided to hear any petitions for today. As he entered the great hall Theon wandered over to him.

"Robb," his friend said. "Looks like we have quite a few petitioners today." Robb groaned internally as he made his way over to the lord's chair. Once he sat down the first of the petitioners entered. The first was a farmer who wanted additional hands for working on his farm.

"With me lads going south with yer lord father I've only got meself an' me wife," he said. "Tis hard work ploughing the fields milord, made a lot harder with me sons going south." Robb shifted in his seat as the man spoke. This petition would be easy to deal with as Robb remembered a petitioner from yesterday.

"Well it seems I've already got a solution for you my good man," Robb began. "Yesterday I had two young boys who were recently orphaned brought before me. They have nowhere to go, and no one will take them in. With the promise of food and a roof over their heads I'm sure they would be willing to help you with any work you need doing." The farmer gave Robb a toothy smile.

"That would be good, milord," he said. "Me wife always wanted more children. We'll put them to work an' treat them like our own. Many thanks, milord." The farmer bowed and stepped away to let the next petitioner step forward.

For the next hour and a half Robb dealt with many petitioners. Many had petty concerns, while some had genuine reasons to come before him. The last two were both trying in their own way; one was a merchant complaining about a labourer stealing some of his goods, the other was a disgruntled father whose daughter had been left pregnant by some guardsman. The merchant was adamant that a labourer had stolen some bauble that he was selling, despite the fact that the man in question had returned the bauble to his stall. Robb pointed out that as he did not actually see the labourer take said item from his stall then man was not necessarily stealing, and could have been returning the bauble after it was either stolen by another or had been knocked off. The merchant left the hall rather grumpily. The disgruntled father however was angry that a guardsman in Stark colours had taken his daughter's honour and left her belly swelling with child, but his main concern was what to do with an extra mouth to feed. The man and his family lived in a small village thirty odd miles to the north and east of Winterfell, and everyone else in said village could not afford to take in an extra mouth. Robb rubbed his head in frustration, unable to decide on a solution. It was then that Maester Luwin leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"The man has a duty to look after his family, regardless of any financial problems he may face," he said. "But with your lord father going south with a large garrison of men we have plenty of space here in Winterfell." Robb looked back up to him.

"That means bringing the girl to an unfamiliar place where she will not know anyone," he pointed out to him. The older man nodded.

"Very true. But she won't be fit to do any work just yet, and we have an elderly woman in the winter town who could do with someone to help her look after her grandchildren." With that Robb's eyes widened with realisation. It may be an inconvenience for the elderly woman to begin with, but if she agreed then it could help the father a lot.

"Very well Maester," Robb said in a louder voice before looking back at the man. "As it so happens we may have a solution. In the winter town we have a woman in her elderly years who is looking after her grandchildren. With some persuasion I can get her to take in your daughter and grandchild. Would that be helpful?" The father bowed his head slightly.

"I'd have preferred her to have taken moon tea, but I suppose this is preferable. Me thanks milord," he replied before walking off. Robb let out a slow breath as the man left the hall.

"Gods give me strength, how can a man be so uncaring to his daughter's welfare?" he asked quietly. Luwin gave him a humourless chuckle.

"Some men are just that way my lord," he answered. As Robb began to stand up from his chair another petitioner walked in. The man was old, walking with a limp. He had light brown hair going grey and a long beard. His right eye was closed shut, meaning he was probably blind in that eye. Robb sank back down into his chair and leaned over the table in front of him.

"Do you have a serious matter to bring to the attention of Lord Stark?" Luwin asked the man kindly. The man nodded his head.

"I have Maester," he responded. "I apologise for this sudden disturbance milord." Robb kept his face neutral as he regarded the old man. He held himself with an air of confidence as he spoke, as if he has spoken with highborn before. His faced was wrinkled from age, but upon closer inspection Robb realised that he had a scar or two as well. _A former soldier perhaps,_ he thought to himself.

"I have some time to listen to you," he said in his lordly voice. "Who are you, and where are you from?" The old man stood up as straight as he could before responding.

"My name is Gerrik, and I'm from a small village forty miles to the south and east of Winterfell, milord," he said. "I served your father and his father before him as a soldier. I fought in the beginning of Robert's Rebellion before taking a wound to my leg, leaving me with a limp and incapable of fighting."

"You must have something very serious to bring to my attention if you've travelled such a long distance," Robb stated. Gerrik nodded his head.

"Aye milord," he said. "I find myself in need of assistance in seeing to the protection of my village. Over the last year, as the winter we have faced has subsided and let spring come out in full, some band of ne'er do wells have been causing problems for people in other nearby villages. I would think nothing of it, as most bandits would never attack villages for fear of your House. However, three days before I set out to travel here, there was smoke coming from a nearby village." Gerrik stopped to catch his breath before continuing. As he was speaking Robb noticed Cassana and his mother enter the great hall. "I travelled with a dozen others to the village, and we found a horrific scene when we arrived. The village once had eight houses and an inn, as well as a nearby farm. All of the buildings had been burned to the ground. And the inhabitants of the village…" Gerrik trailed off, closing his good eye and calming himself. Robb could see that the man was upset.

"Did anyone survive the attack?" Robb asked him, knowing that the villagers would have been killed. Gerrik opened his good eye and nodded his head.

"There was one survivor, a young girl," he said. "Sadly she succumbed to her ordeal. She had been savagely raped by the attackers, as had every other woman in the village. All of the men were also killed. I have seen much death and bloodshed over my fifty-seven years of life milord, and believe me when I say that this was unlike anything that I have ever seen. Two of the men who travelled with me broke down into tears when we saw what the beasts did to the young children. But the worst thing we found was four bodies at the centre of the village. Two men and two women." Robb felt his heart race faster as Gerrik continued to speak, his description of what happened to the villagers angering him. "Those four had been… flayed." Robb's eyes widened with shock. _Flayed,_ he thought. _Flaying has been outlawed in the North for hundreds of years. Ever since the last time House Bolton…_ Robb's train of thought halted there. House Bolton had once practiced flaying before Robb's ancestors outlawed the brutal practice after their House's last failed rebellion against the Starks many centuries ago. Cassana gasped in horror at Gerrik's words, her own eyes widened with shock. Robb saw his mother reach out and place her hand on Cassana's shoulder. The two women walked over to a nearby bench and sat down. Robb turned to Maester Luwin.

"How long would it take for Lord Bolton to travel from here to the Dreadfort?" he asked. Luwin stood thoughtful for a moment before answering.

"A few days, maybe a week at the most," he responded. That meant that Bolton would have been back at his castle after leaving Winterfell after Robb and Cassana's wedding. Robb thought about sending a raven to the Dreadfort, but hesitated. _Just because the victims were flayed doesn't mean that Lord Bolton was responsible for this atrocity,_ he realised. Robb turned back to Gerrik.

"Did you or the others with you find any evidence of who could've done this?" he asked him. Gerrik nodded his head. He reached into his coat and pulled out a large, torn piece of fabric. He passed it to a guardsman who then walked over to Luwin and handed it over to him. Luwin looked at it before setting it down onto the table. The fabric was dyed cloth, probably from a gambeson, and it was stained with dried blood. On the top right part was what remained of a circle stitched into the dark fabric. The circle's interior was pink in colour, with what looked like a red leg and lower body of a man. Robb knew his Northern sigils; this was part of the flayed man sigil of House Bolton.

"I found that with the girl who survived," Gerrik said. "She told me that after most of the villagers had been killed one of the men pulled her into the nearby woods to kill her. The beast stopped to rape her once more, and as he did she scratched the cur's neck with her fingers. The man drew a knife and stabbed her in the side, but she was able to kill him with his other knife which he had dropped after she scratched him. She said that she was lucky that none of the other beasts thought to look for their missing comrade. She said she tore that piece of cloth there to use to lessen the bleeding from her wound before she went to see what was happening in the village, as she felt too weak to run away. She watched as their leader, a young man, flayed his last victim. They then left, slitting the throats of their final victims. We arrived not long after that." Robb stood up from his seat. _A young man was leading them,_ he thought. _Bolton has a bastard son._ He turned to look at Luwin.

"This sounds like Lord Bolton's bastard son," he said. He remembered hearing about the Lord of the Dreadfort's trueborn son dying after meeting with his half-brother. Word was that Bolton's bastard was perhaps responsible for the death of Lord Bolton's son. It was also said that the bastard was an unstable young man with a propensity for violence. Robb even heard rumours that the man played sick games with peasant women who he abducted, although nothing could be proven. Lord Bolton always dismissed those rumours as being baseless mutterings from the small folk of his lands. Robb had found it strange seeing that these 'rumours from the peasants in Bolton lands' had been told to him by men from Karstark lands. It was from conversations with Karstark soldiers during the pirate raid last year that Robb had learned of these rumours in the first place, but as House Bolton has never been totally popular with the other Northern lords Robb had dismissed them. Now he was beginning to wish that he had acted then.

"There have been grumblings from the small folk of the Bolton lands about the Lord's baseborn son," Luwin said. "Nothing like this ever came to our attention in the past. Your father never got any answers from Lord Bolton, but he never had any proof either and so he could not do anything." Robb looked at the Maester thoughtfully for a moment. Before he had dismissed the rumours as just that, rumours. Robb had always been told to never react unless he was certain of what he was doing. That same principal extended to dealing with matters of justice. Rumours were not proof, but a piece of cloth from a Bolton soldier's gambeson with part of the Bolton sigil on it was more than enough proof, especially from a scene of utter devastation.

"Well, we have our proof now," Robb said. He turned to Gerrik and looked at him in the eye. The old man stood as straight as possible. "The destruction of a village and the rape and slaughter of its people cannot go unanswered. Justice will be done, and we have our evidence right here. Maester Luwin," he turned to the old man who has been his teacher ever since he could remember, "send ravens to Karhold, Whiteharbour, Last Hearth and Hornwood ordering them to have their soldiers on standby ready to advance on the lands of the Boltons." Luwin arched an eyebrow before nodding while Robb noticed his mother and Cassana looking at him with worry in their eyes.

"Of course my lord," he responded.

"Once you have done that send a raven to the Dreadfort," Robb continued. "I want Lord Bolton to surrender his bastard son into my custody when I arrive." Robb's mother looked like she was going to jump up and try to stop him there and then. Cassana just looked pale. "If he does not surrender his son, then I'll have no choice but to bring the King's justice upon him for harbouring a dangerous criminal." Luwin bowed his head. Robb saw his mother wander over to him. She stopped right beside him and leaned in closer to him.

"Robb, you can't mean this," she said in a hushed tone. "Roose Bolton is one of your most powerful bannermen. He won't take this command very well. Just send men in to arrest his bastard." Robb looked at his mother and shook his head.

"I can't allow this to go unpunished mother," he said quietly. "The small folk are our responsibility. If I don't punish those who harm them then why should House Stark continue to be the Wardens of the North?" His mother looked at him and opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Cassana walked over then and she stood next to Robb's mother.

"Robb I agree that justice needs to be done, but you don't need to go and do it this way," she began. Robb looked at her, waiting for her to continue. "Send an invitation to Lord Bolton instead. Tell him to bring his son as well, that way we have both of them here in our walls, with our own guards around us ready to arrest them." Robb stood for a moment and considered his wife's words. There was sense to that approach he had to admit. But he could not leave anything to chance. It was smart to have men at the ready, just in case. He looked at Cassana and nodded.

"I will still have the Lords Karstark, Manderly, Umber and Hornwood have their men ready, just in case Lord Bolton leaves me no choice," he said. "But you speak some wisdom there Cass. Maester Luwin, the raven to the Dreadfort will be to invite Lord Bolton to bring his son with him to Winterfell for an important matter. If he does not then I will go to him with an army and bring the King's justice down upon him." Luwin gave him a small smile before he bowed his head.

"It will be done my lord," he said before he left to prepare the letters. Robb then turned to Gerrik, who was still waiting to hear what Robb was to decide.

"Gerrik, I assure you that Lord Bolton's bastard shall be brought to justice for his crimes," he said. "In the mean time I shall have additional guardsmen sent out to your village to help protect you and the others, with orders to arrest or eliminate any bandits who attack your village." Gerrik gave Robb a sad smile.

"My thanks milord," he responded. Gerrik then left the great hall.

The next few hours that passed went by quite fast for Robb. He was still shocked by what Gerrik had told him of the slaughter. The thoughts of death and blood refused to leave Robb's mind, to the point that he did not eat much of his afternoon meal. Theon would normally make a few japes to try and cheer Robb up, but he did not bother this time, obviously deeply affected by what they had been told as well. After seeing to the numbers with Luwin, Robb went outside to the godswood. It was there that he currently was, sat by the edge of one of the hot springs. He just sat there, his anger bubbling away. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he did not hear Cassana call out to him. She wandered over to him and nudged his leg with her foot. He jumped slightly before looking up and calming down.

"Hi Cass," he said as she sat down next to him. Cassana was wearing her woollen trousers beneath her dress. She leaned closer to him and put her arm over his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Robb sat there quietly for a long moment before he answered.

"No," he said. "To be brutally honest, I'm angry at myself. I had heard about Bolton's bastard and his vile ways last year and did nothing about it. If I'd done something then…" He trailed off, looking over to the pool of water in front of him. Cassana leant closer and kissed him on the cheek.

"You couldn't have known without proof," she said. "It's all well condemning a man based on rumours, but rumours alone mean nothing." Robb sighed loudly. He looked back to his wife, who sat there with a sombre expression on her face. He placed a hand on Cassana's face and pulled her closer to him. He kissed her softly on her lips. Cassana wrapped her other arm around his back and shifted herself onto his lap. After a moment Robb laid down on his back, pulling Cassana down with him. They continued to kiss each other for a few minutes before they stopped. Cassana rested her head on Robb's chest while he wrapped his arms protectively around her.

"I knew this would not be easy," he said. "I've known for the last couple of years how hard being Lord of Winterfell would be. But I never thought it would be this hard." He felt Cassana move her head. He looked down to see her face looking up at him.

"Such is our lot in life Robb," she said. "All we can do is do our best." Robb gave her a weak smile.

"Do you think this is the best way to deal with Bolton and his son?" he asked. Cassana crawled up so that she could look down into Robb's eyes with ease. She brought her hand up to comb her fingers through his hair. She smiled at him after a moment of playing with his hair before leaning down to kiss him again.

"It's the best way that I can see," she said before she continued to kiss him. After a minute of kissing Robb pulled her body down flush on top of him before rolling them over so that he was on top. Cassana giggled as he started to kiss her neck, his hand trailing up her thigh. "Now hold own Robb," she said as Robb continued to kiss her neck, grazing his teeth lightly against her skin. "I really could do with a swim before you ravish me. And I would love to swim with you this time. It would be a bit better than trying to have fun in a bath tub." Robb chuckled at the suggestive tone that Cassana used. He sat up and shifted off of her, allowing Cassana to get up and begin to undress herself. Grateful for the change of topic, Robb began to undress himself. He was just getting his trousers off when he heard Cassana splashing about in the pool. He turned around to see her swimming naked in the pool. Robb walked into the pool, the warm water refreshing against his skin.

"Come here Cass," he said as she stopped swimming. Cassana looked back to him and grinned.

"No. If you want me, you'll have to catch me," she called out playfully. Grinning wide, Robb swam over to Cassana, chasing after her, all thoughts of earlier forgotten.

* * *

Silas Baratheon

Silas stretched his arms as he walked along the bank of the river. He was tired from riding for the last few weeks. Nearly five weeks have passed since the royal party left Winterfell. They were at the most ten days away from King's Landing, assuming that the wheelhouse did not break down again. Twice on the return journey has the wheelhouse broken down, once just south of Lord Cerwyn's castle and the second time just a few miles away from the Twins. When it became clear that they were on Frey lands Sansa had kept Lady and her siblings close, as well as at least three Northern guardsmen. Silas was confused by this but did not ask her any questions. Whatever her reasons were Silas could not blame her lack of trust in old Walder Frey's family. That was a couple of weeks back. Silas was sure that if it was not for all of the people in the royal party as well as his mother's insistence that they seek comfortable accommodations every night then they would have been home by now. Now though Silas was just glad that they were nearly there.

As Silas wandered by the river Ser Lukas appeared a few feet to his right. His sworn shield had been busy dealing with some camp follower that had taken a liking to him, and Silas gave him an hour to spend or be rid of said follower. Lukas had a slight blush to his cheeks, and seemed to be in a very good mood. Silas just rolled his eyes. His father, his Uncle Tyrion, and now it seems Lukas have an insatiable appetite for women. _Thank the gods I haven't inherited father's lust for women,_ he thought.

"A good time, I take it?" he asked as Lukas approached him. Lukas gave him a wide grin.

"Not too bad for a blonde," Lukas answered. "You really should try the girl when you get the chance." Silas chuckled.

"No thank you Lukas," he responded. "I'll wait until my wedding night before I get between a woman's thighs." Lukas shook his head.

"Well, your loss," was all he said. The two of them continued to walk along the river bank in silence. As they walked Silas thought back to earlier that day.

 _Silas's horse trotted along after his father as they came upon Castle Darry, a House of the Riverlands who remained loyal to the Targaryens during the war. Lord Darry had sent his Castellan to greet the royal party, as the man had no love for anyone whose last name happened to be Baratheon. As the party carried on to the castle the King looked over his shoulder to some officers from the Stormlander soldiers sworn to him._

 _"We shall set up camp just outside the castle. I shall not sleep under Darry's roof this night." The command given, the officers went off to follow their King's order. As the soldiers carried out their orders Silas came to a stop beside his father and Lord Eddard._

 _"Your grace, we have ample room within…" the Castellan began, but Robert cut him off._

 _"Darry has no love for me, and I have no love for him," he said. "Even though I am King I shall not… inconvenience him with my actual presence. Now away with you." With that the Castellan left._

 _"Lord Darry may take your refusal to rest under his roof as a slight Robert," Eddard said. Silas watched as his father gave a gruff laugh._

 _"What do I care for him? The shit sided with the dragonspawn during the war. I'll never give him any opportunity to insult me, as I won't be able to stop myself from killing him. Do you see me angering the gods in such a manner, by killing a host under his own roof?" Silas cringed when his father laughed again. After the laughter died down the three of them rode along the road for a bit longer. When ten minutes had passed they stopped their horses and dismounted, except for Silas._

 _"Not joining us Silas?" Eddard asked. Any other time or place and Eddard would be more formal when addressing him, but when only in the company of close friends and family he had no need to observe formalities. Silas smiled before he answered._

 _"No thank Eddard," he said. "I shall go for a quick ride before taking a stroll by the river. Gods know I could use the time to stretch my legs." With that Silas took off, followed by Ser Lukas. They rode for an hour before a camp follower called out to Lukas._

 _"Oh seven hells," he said. Silas laughed._

 _"Go on Lukas," Silas said to him. "Go and have some fun for a time." Lukas looked at him._

 _"I would my prince, but as you…"_

 _"I'm sure I can look after myself while you go and either have some fun or scare the girl off," Silas interrupted. "Now go." With that Lukas got off his horse and wandered over to the girl, who seemed to be giddy with excitement._

 _Silas got off his horse five minutes later and charged a stable hand to look after it. He decided to wander around the camp site for a short time. He saw the wheelhouse nearby, and heard his mother complaining about not getting to sleep in a comfortable bed tonight. Silas smirked at his mother's expense. She never could appreciate the outdoors like Silas did. As he walked off away from his mother and her wheelhouse he saw his little sister walking towards the edge of the woods with Ser Arys and Bran next to her. He rolled his eyes. Those two had been spending a fair bit of time together since Cassana and Robb got married. First the elder of his younger sisters had fallen for a Stark, and now it seemed that his youngest sister had her eyes on a Stark. He decided to approach them. As he got closer he heard a bit more of their conversation._

 _"I find it quite sad that Baelor Breakspear died the way he did," Myrcella said. "If it were not for that trial by seven then he might have lived to have been a great king." Bran gave her a sad smile._

 _"True. But if he had lived then Aegon the Unlikely would never have been king himself, and Ser Duncan the Tall's story would have ended before it began," Bran said in an almost sage-like manner. Myrcella smiled at him; her usual bright smile that she only gave to family. That made Silas feel wary. He walked over to them, deliberately stomping on a twig to make it snap and draw their attention to him. The three of them looked over to him, Ser Arys spinning around and reaching for his sword. He stopped once he saw it was only Silas._

 _"My prince," Ser Arys intoned, bowing his head and removing his hand from the grip of his sword._

 _"Silas," Bran and Myrcella said in almost perfect unison. Silas smiled at them._

 _"Ser Arys. How are you today?" he asked the knight._

 _"I am well my prince," he answered. Silas smiled at him before looking at Bran and Myrcella._

 _"I trust you two are behaving yourselves now," he stated. Myrcella gave him her best innocent smile._

 _"Oh I was just talking with Bran about the story of Ser Duncan and Aegon the Unlikely," she said sweetly. Silas nodded his head slightly._

 _"Yes, I heard you mention Baelor Breakspear," he said._

 _"I like the tales about Duncan and Aegon," Bran said. "I'm quite glad that Cella like them too." At that Silas's eyes widened._

 _"Cella?" he repeated. Only family ever addressed Myrcella as 'Cella'. Bran seemed to have realised that he caught Silas off guard. Before anyone could say anything Myrcella spoke up._

 _"Bran is short for Brandon, and Cella is short for Myrcella," she stated simply. "If I can call Brandon Bran then it is only fair that he can call me Cella." Her reasoning was very simple and straightforward. Silas found he could not argue with his little sister, not that he wanted the headache that would come with doing so._

 _"Okay then. Just… don't do anything that I wouldn't do you two, okay?" Silas said after a few moments of silence. The two youngsters nodded before they continued on their walk, Ser Arys close behind them._

"You really ought to pay attention to Jon," a voice from a short distance away said, breaking Silas from his train of thought. He was beginning to think if he should be more worried for Bran than for Myrcella after his quick conversation with them earlier. If Silas was very much the near perfect balance of Baratheon and Lannister with his strength and cunning, then Myrcella was the perfect Lannister with her quick mind. Not surprising to Silas, seeing as how Myrcella spends an awful lot of time with Uncle Tyrion, much to their mother's annoyance. First Robb had been captivated by Cassana, whose beauty could capture the heart of any man, and now it seemed that Myrcella was doing the same thing to Bran.

As Silas continued to walk the sounds of wood hitting wood drifted closer to him. Driven by a sense of curiosity, Silas and Lukas wandered over to the source of the sound. They navigated around the trees, walking in the direction of the noise. Once they got to the edge of a clearing they saw Sansa sat on a log with Lady lying down in front of her, with Ghost and Nymeria on either side of Lady. Sansa was watching Arya and Jon spar with wooden swords. Silas chuckled quietly as Arya threw herself into Jon, trying to knock him off balance.

"Come on Jon, stop being defensive," she snapped as she swung her wooden sword at him. Jon just stepped out of the way, clearly trying not to laugh. Silas walked over then, keeping quiet so as not to alert Arya, who had her back to him. Sansa and Jon saw him, but he brought his finger to his lips to signal to them to keep quiet. They made no sound as Silas snuck closer to them. As Arya brought her wooden sword behind her head, Silas reached out and grabbed it, pulling it towards himself. Arya gave out a loud surprised yelp as she tumbled to the grass beneath her. Silas, Jon and Sansa burst out laughing at the sound that came from Arya. After they stopped laughing Arya stood up, stomping her feet in indignation. "That's not funny," she snapped, which only made Silas laugh even more.

"No, it's bloody hilarious," Lukas said then. Arya picked up a stone and threw it at him. The small stone hit Lukas in the shoulder, but he just looked at the stone as it dropped to the ground and shrugged his shoulders. "Really?" was all he said before he too burst out laughing.

"If we weren't all friends I'd kill you all for laughing at me," Arya said, visibly trying hard not to burst out laughing herself.

"Oh come now Arya," Sansa said when she regained control of herself. "You love it when we wind you up. Admit it." Arya looked at her elder sister and glared at her. Or rather tried to. After a brief attempt at a glare Arya lost all control and laughed herself. Silas was dumbfounded for a moment before he too laughed again. He can still remember the time when Sansa could hardly stand Arya and her unladylike behaviour. She would go mad whenever Arya did anything that was not appropriate for a lady to do. Now it seemed that Sansa was more caring towards Arya and cared not for her behaviour.

After they all stopped laughing Arya and Jon resumed their sparring session. Silas watched from the side, sitting next to Sansa while Lukas sat next to Ghost, petting him occasionally. Every now and then Silas would throw some advice to Arya, who listened and got slightly better at fighting. They sparred for an hour before they slumped down onto their haunches, sweat glistening from their brows. Arya panted as she lay on her back. Jon looked over to her and smirked.

"You're getting better Arya," he said encouragingly. Arya lifted her head and smiled at her brother. The sound of hands clapping drew everyone's attention. Silas looked over his shoulder and saw Joffrey standing there, the Hound behind him.

"Yes, not bad for some silly little girl," he said. "I suppose though that that is the best that you can do?" Silas shifted himself to better see his brother, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Lukas stood up, his hand coming to his own sword.

"Oh go and bugger off Joffrey," Silas said. "We've got better things to do than entertain you." Joffrey ignored him though, and took a step closer to the group, pointing his finger at Jon.

"But you, bastard," he said venomously. Jon stood up, still clutching onto his training sword. "Call yourself a man, do you? You only fight girls? You're pathetic." Jon glared at Joffrey, his grip visibly tightening around his training sword. Silas stood up now, stepping slightly forward.

"Well I'm sure you must know about that Joffrey," Silas said, his face stern as he glared at his younger brother. "You whimpered like a little girl yourself after your beating a few weeks ago. Or have you forgotten?" Joffrey now glared at Silas.

"Well you know nothing about being a man if it took you, Tommen, Robb, Rickon and that bastard there to subdue me," he spat. Silas looked out the corner of his eye at Sansa, who gave his brother a hateful glare.

"Well my prince," she began, "a true man would never be brought low by three grown men and two little boys. So you can't be a true man. You're more of a girl than my sister is." Joffrey stared at Sansa, who kept her expression as neutral as possible. After a couple of tense moments Silas heard Arya giggle. Joffrey then looked at her and glared.

"You shut up you stupid child," he snarled at Arya, who only laughed instead. "Dog, teach this stupid slut a lesson," he said to Clegane, pointing at Sansa. The Hound however just stood his ground.

"I don't strike ladies," he said gruffly. Joffrey glared at his sworn shield.

"You will do as I command Dog," he barked. Clegane just folded his arms and shook his head. Joffrey looked back at Sansa and glared at her. "Fine, I shall deal with you myself. After..." As he paused talking he began to draw his longsword. When it was fully out of the scabbard he pointed it at Jon. "Ready your blade bastard," he said in an almost quiet voice.

"Go bugger a tree Joffrey," Jon said. Silas smirked at Jon's remark, but kept his hand on the grip of his sword. Joffrey smirked at Jon before taking a step closer to him.

"You'll wish you had not…" Silas cut Joffrey off when he drew his own sword. In the same motion that he drew his sword he slashed at Joffrey's hand, slicing the back of the hand open and making him drop his sword. Joffrey screamed out in pain, wailing like a child. Silas saw the tears forming in his brother's eyes. Silas shook his head.

"Fifteen namedays you've seen, and you still cry at a minor cut," he growled out. Silas sheathed his own sword before he walked over to pick up Joffrey's sword. "Sandor, drag my brother before my father, will you?" The Hound stepped forward at once, nodding his head as he walked over. He hauled Joffrey to his feet and began to drag him away. Silas looked to the others. "Come on, let's go," he said to them.

It took them half an hour to find Silas's father at his tent, and a further ten minutes to get everyone organised. Silas stood in the tent before his father, who sat on a chair next to his mother, both looking stern. Eddard stood beside Robert, his hands clasped in front of him, wearing his signature neutral expression on his face. Stood beside their mother was Joffrey, his eyes red from crying it seems. Jon, Sansa and Arya stood next to Silas, all calm and quiet, even though Arya was fidgeting a little. Tyrion had decided to stay out of this and instead entertain the younger royals and Bran. After a minute of silence Robert spoke.

"Now then, what's this nonsense that I've heard about?" he asked. Silas stepped forward, ready to speak, when Joffrey started to mutter about being assaulted by all of them. "When I want your version I'll ask for it, until then, shut it." Joffrey fell silent then, and Robert looked back at Silas, urging him to begin.

"I was out walking by the river with my sworn shield, Ser Lukas, when we came across Ladies Sansa and Arya with their half-brother Jon," Silas began. He had recited the tale in his head, and what he and the others agreed to say in front of his father, and what to leave out (specifically Jon and Arya's sparring). They had agreed on what to say as they walked back to the camp. Silas cleared his throat before he continued. "We were enjoying the afternoon spring sun when Joffrey and Sandor Clegane arrived and disturbed our peace. Joffrey decided to try and start a fight with Jon over our previous sparring match back in Winterfell. When Lady Sansa spoke to him he glared at her, and then he told her sister to shut up when she started laughing at him."

"That little girl should know better than to laugh at a prince of the Seven Kingdoms," Silas's mother said. He stared at his mother and shook his head.

"Joffrey had put himself in a stupid situation mother," he said. He looked back to his father before he continued. "After telling Arya to shut up he then commended Clegane to and I quote 'teach this stupid slut a lesson'. To his credit Clegane refused to do as commanded by Joffrey." Silas watched as Eddard and Robert shot looks of disgust at Joffrey. Even Cersei, who doted on him was disgusted with her second son.

"You dare?" she hissed. "Have you no respect for others?" Joffrey looked down at the floor, his face now red with embarrassment.

"After that Joffrey drew his sword and pointed it at Jon," Silas said as he held up the longsword _Lion's Tooth_ for his mother and father to see. Robert glared at Joffrey, his eyes brimming with fury. "Knowing what he intended to do I drew my sword and disarmed him, hence the cut on his right hand." When he was finished Silas stepped back to let the others stand forward to say their piece. One by one Silas's father called them forward to confirm his story. Sansa, Arya and Jon told them the same story as Silas, the only variation being the words that each of them used. After they were done it was Joffrey's turn to explain himself.

"I was simply walking along the river bank when I happened upon them," he began, looking anywhere but at his father. _He can't lie to a man's face so he looks elsewhere,_ Silas thought with disgust. "All of them just simply… they just… they began to taunt me, picking on me for what I foolishly said at Winterfell to the Lady Arya. I never drew my sword, Silas just drew his and sliced my hand open. I thought he was going to kill me when he took _Lion's Tooth_ from me." Joffrey stuttered as he tried to give his lie to them. Fed up with his attempt to give his testimony, Robert told Joffrey to be silent as he called Lukas and Clegane up to testify. Lukas gave the same story that Silas had already given, and the Hound gave a very simple answer.

"Prince Joffrey is not telling you the truth about what happened by the river, your grace. But the Crown Prince has told it true." Joffrey stared open mouthed at Sandor, furious at his betrayal. Silas had to mentally restrain himself from smirking. Although he is Joffrey's sworn shield, Sandor Clegane is Silas's man. The Hound does as Silas tells him when it comes to doing as Joffrey orders. Satisfied with everyone's testimony, Silas's father turns to glare at Joffrey.

"You dare threaten one of Ned's family?" he growled out. Joffrey looked up at Robert then.

"He's only a bastard," was all Joffrey could say. Robert huffed with anger at the remark.

"Jon Snow is still Ned's son," he barked. "You stand there and behave like a spoiled shit every time you get into trouble. I grow weary of your bloody nonsense son. I raised you better." Joffrey looked up at him, his eyes wide with his own fury.

"You never raised me father," he snapped at Robert. "Mother raised me while all you did was shower my siblings with love and attention and practically ignored me my whole fucking life!" Robert stood up faster than anyone could blink. In an instant Joffrey was falling to the floor just before the sound of the slap reached anyone's ears. Joffrey hit the floor with a dull thud, and then looked up at his father. Silas raised an eyebrow as he watched the scene unfold in front of him.

"Never, ever, speak to me like that again you little shit," Robert snarled. Everyone took a step back at his tone, even Eddard stepped back. Silas stood still, but he flinched at his father's voice. "I raised you since you were born. It's only your attitude that I grew tired of. It's your behaviour that made me look to my other children. You have no right to claim that I ignored you during your childhood. If it were not for your mother then you would not have kept the name Baratheon after your coming-of-age hunt." As he continued to speak to Joffrey, Silas saw their mother stand and place a hand on their father's arm.

"Come now Robert," she said in a quiet, soothing voice. "Joffrey has learned his lesson, haven't you?" she said glaring down at Joffrey, using a tone that made Joffrey know that he was in trouble and could not get out of it. Joffrey simply nodded his head and struggled up to his feet. "We'll keep him under a close eye as we return to King's Landing. Now let us retire for the night," Cersei said to her husband in a voice that had a hint of a seductive tone to it. Silas watched as his mother stroked her hand down his father's chest. He felt the urge to vomit at his mother and father as they looked longingly at each other. Silas knows that when his father gets angry it takes a lot to calm him down, usually a long hunt or an evening in bed with a woman. It was not often that Cersei gave herself to Robert, but when she did Silas knew that they would get some peace and quiet from both of them for the night. After a few awkward moments of silence Eddard spoke.

"If that is all your grace, I think it best for us all to get a good night's rest," he said. Silas's father looked back to his lifelong friend and nodded his head.

"Aye Ned, you're right," he said quietly. Robert looked at everyone in the tent. "Well, what are you all gawking at? Bugger off, all of you!" Everyone gathered began to leave the tent. "YOU AS WELL BOY!" Robert snapped at Joffrey who seemed to not know what to do.

As everyone left Silas followed Jon and his siblings, watching them as walked back with their father to their tents. Jon hung back to thank Silas for earlier. The two of them conversed as they walked back to the tents. When they were at Eddard's tent Jory walked up to them.

"Everything okay my lord?" he asked.

"Everything is alright Jory," Eddard said. "The situation was resolved. Let's hope we have no more drama on the rest of our journey." Jory looked at Silas and bowed his head to him.

"My prince," he said, averting his eyes. Silas chuckled.

"Evening Jory," Silas said. "I trust you haven't forgotten the mead and gold you owe me?" Jon chuckled as Jory shook his head before he walked away.

"You're terrible you know," Jon stated. Silas shrugged.

"You know me so well Jon," he answered. The two followed the girls to their tent and made sure they got settled in. Lady and Nymeria stood beside the tent's entrance as Silas and Jon walked off, heading in the direction of Jon's tent. When they were there they bid one another good night before Jon retired for the night. Ghost came out and sniffed Silas's hand. Silas scratched Ghost behind his ears before the white-furred Direwolf followed his master into his tent. Silas looked up to the star filled night sky. _Has the time really gone by so quickly? It didn't feel like early evening when Joffrey showed up and caused us trouble,_ he thought as he began to walk back to his tent. As he approached his tent he heard sounds coming from the tent where his mother and father were. He approached quietly, wondering what was going on, until he was a few feet away. There was panting and moaning coming from within the tent, as well as the creaking of a bed.

"Harder Robert," Silas heard his mother's voice faintly through the tent. His eyes went wide as his cheeks burned with embarrassment. Catching his parents at it was the last thing he expected this night. Normally they are quieter than this. Silas knows that his mother and father do not love each other, but they are fond of one another regardless. They must be if they still take pleasure from each other.

"Gods you two are shameless," Silas muttered to himself as he walked back to his own tent, the sounds of his parents love making following him as he left. Once in his own tent he settled on the cot that he had a servant set up for him. He lay down and drifted off to sleep.

As he slept he dreamed of a pack of wolves running through a snow swept field, with a small group of stags running with them. On the back of the largest stag was a small lizard-like creature, with small wings that were clipped and torn, clutching onto its back. When Silas woke up the next morning he remembered that dream. It was a dream that he had been having for some months now, but it made no sense what so ever to him. Silas felt that the dream had some significance to him, but for now it made no sense to him at all. The only thing he knew was that the lizard with broken wings could only be one thing; a dragon.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN=** I own nothing, GoT belongs to GRRM and HBO.

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

Frieda, the Lady of Shadows

When Frieda woke up that morning it was with a pleasant ache between her legs. She sat up from the bed and looked at the man she had shared it with. The man was of a cadet branch of House Buckwell of the Antlers, located north of King's Landing. He was an older man, probably in his forties, with dark hair that was greying, and had quite a large belly. Despite that he was good in bed, or so Frieda thought anyway. She brushed her hand through her dark blonde hair and carefully got out of the bed. It was just before dawn, so she had time to get where she needed to be. She did not need to be quiet as she had put a small drop of nightshade into the man's drink before he went to have her again. He was enjoyable, but Frieda did not let him have her for pure pleasure. She had spent time with him to learn about what he knew of Littlefinger. Marlon Buckwell was a minor lord who served his cousin, the current Lord Buckwell. Marlon was visiting the capitol on business for his House, which involved working with Littlefinger. During the night Frieda learned about a small warehouse that Marlon Buckwell owned and had loaned to Littlefinger's agents. That she had learned while he was thrusting himself into her as she lay on her front, with him behind her.

She may have enjoyed her time with Marlon, but she had need of rest before going to the Red Keep. She put the nightshade into his wine cup and when he fell asleep she took some rest herself. _It would be rude of me to not share his bed until I needed to go to the Red Keep,_ she had thought. Frieda left Marlon's bed chamber and went to the solar where her clothes were scattered. She put them back on before she quietly left the manse, pulling the hood around her as she walked away to the Red Keep. It took her an hour and a half to reach her destination, and that was with her running. Once she was there the sun had begun to creep up on the horizon. Entering the servant's part of the Red Keep, Frieda made her way to her own quarters, where she quickly brewed some moon tea for herself. Marlon may have pulled himself out of her before spilling his seed each time he took her, but Frieda was not one for taking chances. After spending a couple of hours getting herself cleaned up and drinking the tea, she dressed in servants attire before making her way along the corridors of the Red Keep.

Frieda was half way to the kitchens when she saw a young boy run up to her, carrying a scroll in his hand. Frieda stepped into an alcove and waited for the boy to approach her. The boy must have been about seven or eight, and had short dark hair and equally dark eyes. His face was filthy with muck. The child looked up to her and held the scroll out to her.

"The Spider has need of you," he said. "He requires your discretion in regards to your new task." Frieda smiled sweetly at the boy as she took the scroll from him. She placed it into her pocket as she heard a couple of guardsmen approach. Giving the boy a quick wink to let him know what she was going to do, she looked over her shoulder to see two men in Baratheon colours walking her way. She grabbed the boy and began to drag him away, with the boy putting up a fight, or rather pretending to. "Please, I'm so hungry," the boy said, his voice pleading. With a stern face she looked back at him.

"I don't care boy," she spat as the guards walked past them, one of them glancing at them before shaking his head. "If I catch you down here one more time I'll feed your hide to the hounds, do you hear me?" Once the guards were around the corner she let go of him and smiled at him. The boy returned the smile before scarpering off. Frieda walked in a different direction to where she was initially going. Once she was outside she looked around to ensure that she was alone. Walking behind a tree she removed the scroll and broke the seal before unrolling it. She held the scroll and read its contents.

 **My dear Frieda,**

 **I must inform you of your new duties my girl. The Lord of Winterfell will be arriving shortly with his household, which as I understand it includes his two daughters and his second son. Curiously his bastard son is with him as well. I need you to watch over them and report to me all of the Quiet Wolf's activities, which shall be easy for you to do as you will be working as a servant for them. Spare no details please. I must know where the Lord Stark's loyalties truly lie. As always burn this letter when you have read it.**

 **Varys**

Frieda folded the scroll and placed it back into her pocket. So she was to spy on the Starks now. Silas will have to be told of this when he returns. Once she was sure that she had not been spied upon she walked back into the keep, making her way to the kitchens. She works there for some time, helping to prepare some of the food before she is dismissed and told to go to the courtyard where Lord Stark was to arrive. Frieda wanders away, walking fast to her destination. Once there she is approached by a senior servant.

"You must be Frieda?" he asked. Frieda nodded her head to him, acting like a nervous girl. "You must remember that you will be working under the Lord Stark as a servant. Being in service to a highborn means you must know how to curtsey correctly. Now show me." Frieda did not like this man. He came across as being too pompous, but she had to do as she was told. Frieda bent her knees as she lowered herself, dipped her head forward, and spread her arms out slightly to either side. The senior servant observed her with a scornful look. "Not the best I have seen, but it will do. Now come with me." Frieda followed the man as he led her to where the Starks would arrive.

They had stood there for only ten minutes when a man on a horse entered the courtyard. Just behind him were two mounted guardsmen wearing boiled leather over chainmail, each with an iron shield with the Stark sigil upon them, and bearing longswords sheathed at their left hips. One wore a helmet while the other (on the man's right) had no helm, leaving his long dark hair loose. Frieda noticed a scar near one of the man's eyes. Behind these three came two younger men, also on horseback, one who was more boy than man, with auburn hair and blue eyes. The older boy had dark brown hair and grey eyes, much like the older man in front of him, and like the older man he had a beard. Then an open topped carriage was pulled in by a pair of horses. On the carriage were two young women. One had long auburn hair while the other had long dark brown hair. Both of them were looking at their surroundings as the carriage was pulled in. More guardsmen entered the courtyard, along with many servants as well. The carriage came to a halt just as the five riders stopped. The older man dismounted his horse just as the royal steward approached.

"Lord Stark," the steward called out. "Grand Maester Pycelle has called for a meeting of the Small Council and requests your immediate presence." Lord Stark looked back to the man with the scar on his face.

"Jory, get the girls and Bran settled into their chambers," he said. The scarred man, Jory, nodded his head, urging his horse towards the young women, followed closely by the auburn haired lad. "Jon, take charge of the wolves. Once they are settled assist Jory with setting the guard up." The older lad, who had dismounted his horse as Lord Stark spoke to him, bowed his head.

"Very well father," he said as he stepped away from his horse. Stark turned to look at the steward.

"If you would like to change into something more appropriate?" he suggested. Stark removed his gloves and stared at the steward, who after an uncomfortable moment bowed his head and led the way to the Small Council chamber. Suppressing a smirk, Frieda followed the other servants as they approached the Northmen party.

"Pardon us milords and ladies," the senior servant began. "We have been tasked with assisting you in settling down into the Tower of the Hand." Jory looked at the man as he spoke. _He seems to be assessing us,_ Frieda thought.

"My thanks my good man," Jory said with a slight smile.

"If you would like any assistance feel free to ask us, Lord…"

"I am Jory Cassel, Captain of Lord Stark's guard," Jory cut across. "I'm neither a knight or a lord." The senior servant looked surprised at him. Frieda giggled slightly, but stopped herself quickly. Unfortunately the senior servant noticed.

"Enough Frieda, or I'll have you whipped," he snapped. Frieda looked down at the ground, trying to look ashamed while quietly seething at the threat. _You'll do no such thing if you know what's good for you,_ she thought. "This is what they give me? Incompetent girls who giggle at the highborn?" As the senior servant raved at her the auburn haired woman wandered over to them, her face expressionless. As she walked a Direwolf padded next to her, earning a few surprised gasps from the assembled servants. Frieda stared wide eyed at the beast, who glared at the senior servant, bearing its teeth at him. The man looked nervously at the beast.

"Have no fear," the woman said, shooting him a glare of her own. "Lady here will not attack unless I order her to do so. Or if you foolishly decide to threaten me." The woman stroked her hand through the wolf's fur, which seemed to calm her down. "But if I hear such unnecessary threats being made again, you will be the first in King's Landing to bear witness to a Direwolf's fury. Have I made myself clear?" The man stared at the woman, his mouth agape. When he finally regained the use of his tongue he spoke.

"Who are you to threaten me madam?" he spoke angrily. As he did Jory and Jon placed their hands on their swords, ready to draw them at a moment's notice.

"You are speaking to Lady Sansa Stark, the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell," Jory spoke, his voice stern. "You will address her as milady." The man looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was right now. After a tense moment he looked back at Lady Sansa.

"Forgive me, milady, I had no…" he began, but was cut off when the Stark girl raised her hand to silence him. She looked at Frieda for a long moment before approaching her.

"Are you familiar with the layout of the Tower of the Hand?" she asked her. Frieda did her best to give the impression of a nervous servant girl.

"Of course, milady," Frieda began. "I was one of the servants assigned to clear out what Lady Arryn left behind when she vacated the Tower many weeks ago." The lie came easy, as Frieda has been in the Tower of the Hand many times over the last three years, delivering messages to old Lord Arryn for Silas. Sansa smiled at her.

"Then would you be so kind as to escort us to our new home?" she asked in a much kinder voice than she used before. Frieda bowed her head and gave her a small smile before leading the way to where the Starks would be staying.

It took them two hours to get everything sorted out. There was a lot of equipment to be moved, furniture to shift about and weapon stands to position in the armoury. Lord Stark had brought an unusually large guard presence with him, about eighty men. _I wonder if that is Silas's suggestion,_ she thought. _It would make sense for Lord Stark to bring so many men if he received my message._ As Frieda helped the other servants with their tasks she watched the newcomers get themselves settled in. Jon Snow was followed by a white furred Direwolf where ever he went. It took him several minutes to get the other wolves settled in, setting up pens within all of their rooms which, Frieda noticed, the beasts would be sharing with their owners. Lady Sansa was extremely polite to all of the servants, except for the senior who no one seemed to like, and offered a sweet smile to anyone who she spoke to. Her younger sister, Lady Arya, was a very kind girl herself, but had a mischievous look about her. Her smile held a lot of mischief, and she conducted herself with something of a playful manner. The young boy, Brandon, was being very helpful to the servants, which seemed to make up for his numerous questions about the Red Keep and King's Landing in general. When everything was set up most of the servants left to go about their other duties. As they were leaving Lord Stark himself entered the hall as his own people were getting ready for their mid-afternoon meal.

"It's a bloody mummer's farce Silas," he said quietly to Silas, who was walking with him. The young Baratheon noticed Frieda as he entered and gave her a quick smile.

"I know Eddard, but my father is adamant about this tourney," Silas said as they approached the nearest table.

"Is everything okay father?" Arya asked. Lord Stark looked at his youngest daughter and gave her a small smile.

"Our good King has decided to honour my appointment as Hand by throwing a hellishly expensive tourney," he answered. All of his children looked up at him. Bran and Arya held looks of wonder on their faces while Jon and Sansa looked concerned. Frieda was surprised with Sansa as most highborn girls that Frieda knows would be quite excited with the prospect of a tourney.

"How expensive will it be?" Sansa asked. Instead of answering Lord Stark handed over a scroll of parchment to her. Sansa took it and read the contents, her eyes widening as she read the contents. "This is only the prize fund, isn't it?" she asked looking up at her father. Lord Stark nodded.

"By the time you consider all of the costs for labour, food and the extra guardsmen, we are looking at just under a million dragons," he said. Sansa and her siblings stared at their father, Sansa's jaw dropping at the number. Frieda was not as surprised as they were, seeing as King Robert was known for his somewhat expensive spending habits, but this still shocked her. _We surely don't have much left in the treasury at all,_ she thought as her eyes travelled to Silas. He stepped forwards to look at Sansa.

"I don't suppose now is the time to tell you that we do not have a treasury to pay for this?" he half asked, answering Frieda's thoughts. If everyone assembled did not think they could be shocked further then the looks they all had said otherwise.

"Seven hells," Arya muttered. "How does the King think to pay for this? No offence meant Silas, but your father could do with not being such a fool with his spending." Her words were met with a gentle slap on her arm by Sansa.

"Arya!" she said in an almost scandalised tone. Frieda grinned at the sisters exchange. Just then the senior servant tapped her shoulder. When Frieda looked at him he signalled her to follow him. Frieda followed the man, although she was suspicious of his motives. They walked down the hallway for a short while before he turned around and started waving his finger in her face.

"Now you listen to me Frieda," he began, "I don't care why you have been sent to work with Lord Stark and his family, but I tell you now if you don't start being more respectful to your betters then I'll have you whipped, beaten and scolded. Do you understand me?" Frieda stood stock still, her expression portraying hurt to him. While the man seemed satisfied with her apparent submissiveness, Frieda slowly drew her dagger from her left arm, where it was sheathed. After a moment her expression changed from hurt, to stern, to angry. The older man seemed confused, and in the next instant she had thrown him against the wall and pinned him in place, holding her dagger against his throat. "What are y…" Frieda pressed her blade further against his throat, not deep enough to kill, but deep enough to draw blood.

"Now you listen to me you spineless shit," Frieda growled in a low voice. "All you need to know is that someone of a much higher standing than you has had me placed here for the Starks benefit. And I really hate curs such as yourself, so why don't you fuck off out of here, and we'll pretend you never threatened me." At that she let the man go and stepped back. He gently rubbed his hand where Frieda's blade nicked his skin, then he glared at her.

"You'll pay for that bitch," he spat. "I have powerful friends in court."

"Am I one of those friends?" a familiar voice called out. Frieda looked over her shoulder to see Silas stood, his hand resting on the grip of his own dagger at his right hip. He glared at the senior servant, who had paled at seeing him.

"My prince, I…" he stuttered.

"Frieda here is under my employ," Silas spat. "You shall not threaten her again. Now off with you, you jumped up little prick, and never let me see your ugly mug again." The senior servant bowed his head and then took off. When he disappeared down the hall Frieda turned to face him, and gave him a smile.

"Welcome back, my prince," she said in a mocking tone of voice. Silas rolled his eyes.

"Charming as ever Frieda," he replied. "Must you always make friends in such a way?"

"You know me only too well Silas," she answered. After a moment she stepped closer and pulled out the letter that Varys sent to her earlier. "This may interest you," she said as she handed the scroll to him. Silas took it and read it quickly. He nodded his head in understanding.

"Follow his instructions as always, but tell me first before you report anything," he casually replied as he gave the letter back to her. Frieda took it back and then followed him as he walked back into the hall. "Now, Lord Stark will want to see you as well." Frieda raised her eyebrows at this.

"Is this wise Silas?" she asked quietly as they passed the people who were eating their meal. Silas looked over his shoulder and waved his hand to tell her to catch up with him. Frieda did so, and Silas spoke in a quiet voice.

"Eddard Stark needs to know how our investigation is going," he whispered. "He will be holding his own investigation into Jon Arryn's death. Whatever you have learned while I have been absent you can tell us at the same time."

The room that Lord Stark has taken as his solar was near the top of the Tower of the Hand. It was fairly big, with a massive oak desk in the middle of the room, and numerous bookshelves along the walls. Lord Stark himself was of an age with Silas's father, with a weather-worn face with deep grey eyes and longish dark brown hair. He was wearing a grey tunic made from a thin material to help him stay cool, but he seemed uncomfortable in the southern heat. His face conveyed a sense of kindness while at the same time being stern. Frieda stood in front of him with her arms folded in front of her.

"So Silas tells me that I can trust you?" Stark said as he sat back in his own chair, holding his hand out to offer Frieda and Silas to sit as well. Frieda sits down on the chair to the right while Silas sits to the left.

"I'm the sort of person who gets things done, my lord," she answered. "I've been looking into Littlefinger for a long time, trying to bring him down. He knows that someone is onto him, as I have managed to scupper some of his plans as I investigate him. He is cautious without fault, but not totally careful. Over the last eight weeks I have removed several of his hired thugs, one being a Braavosi who he used to intimidate and murder folk, and I have learned from a minor lordling he is working with that he has hired a warehouse via some of his agents. The agents are people who I know work for him. Trying to get more information is proving difficult at the moment, but I'll get there in the end." Stark leaned back into his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. He looked at Frieda for a long time before he leant forward, clasping his hands and placing them on the desk in front of him.

"My wife grew up with Lord Baelish back in Riverrun many years ago," he said. "She has always spoken of him with affection. Of course from what I know of him he seems quite sly, and untrustworthy." Frieda gave Stark a small smile.

"Not trusting him would be a wise move my lord," she said. "He is beyond untrustworthy. He has no honour, which I know will not sit well with you. In fact you will have a hard time trusting anyone on the Small Council." Stark raised a brow at this statement. He stood up and wandered over to the window. As he stood there Silas stood up as well. He remained where he was, but looked over to Stark. He cleared his throat before he began to speak.

"Frieda has worked for Varys for many years Eddard," he said. "She knows the Small Council members better than I do. Of all of them, only my Uncle Stannis and Ser Barristan can be trusted." Stark turned at Silas's words, a look of shock on his face.

"What of the others?" he asked. Silas looked down at Frieda, who stood from her seat before she began to explain the Small Council members to him.

"Lord Stannis and Ser Barristan are honourable men, both holding to a strong code of justice and honour. The rest however…" she paused for a brief moment before she continued. "Lord Renly, while a decent man, is quite silly. He also spends far too much time with Ser Loras Tyrell, Lord Mace's youngest son. They are known to be lovers, and it is known in small circles that the Tyrells have been plotting to have their line joined with the royal line for some time. I do firmly believe that Lord Renly is being manipulated by Loras Tyrell."

"Frieda's not wrong there Eddard," Silas put in. "I have never trusted Mace Tyrell, and my Uncle Renly is an impressionable fool. Plus he never takes his responsibilities seriously." Stark looks quite taken aback by this.

"I've never known Renly to be as you have described him," he said. Frieda shrugged her shoulders.

"I have only known him since he became Master of Laws," she said. "Anyway, that's him. Of the rest, well Varys is alright, but I would never trust him to tell me the full facts. He withholds information until it suits him to unveil it to people. I know he speaks truly when he says he serves the realm, but I believe that he would rather see the Targaryens back on the Iron Throne. He holds no love for the current royal family due to what happened to Elia Martel and her children, and he is good at hiding his true feelings and motives. We already know of Littlefinger, which is not as much as I'd like to know. Pycelle however…" Frieda shuddered at mentioning that lecherous old man. "He is nothing more than a slimy Lannister man, paid for by the Old Lion. He pretends to be a dithering frail old man, but in truth he is only the last of those. He is quite sharp for his age, and by no means frail. He also breaks the Maesters oath of celibacy constantly. I wouldn't be surprised if he has had more whores than the King." Silas smirked at that. "Pycelle has been sending information to Lord Lannister since before the fall of the Targaryens. And it was he who is responsible for the Red Cloak scum being able to sack King's Landing." Stark looked at her with a dumbfounded expression.

"What do you mean?" he asked. Before Frieda could answer Silas spoke up.

"Pycelle counselled Mad Aerys to open the city gates so that my grandfather could sack the city, and he knew full well that he would," he answered. "Thanks to him my grandfather was able to sack this city in my father's name, as you already know. It is because of Pycelle that what happened had happened. Every innocent who was murdered, every innocent who was raped… every innocent who suffered, only suffered so because of that old grey sacked cunt." Stark seemed quite surprised at the malice in Silas's voice. Frieda sat back down onto her chair.

"Of course if it wasn't for him then I wouldn't be here," she said quietly. Stark looked at her, confusion written on his face. "Did you execute any Lannister men during the sack?" she asked him.

"I did indeed," Stark answered. "I executed a few men in Lannister colours that day before I entered the Red Keep."

"Then I only hope you beheaded the man who sired me, my lord," she said. "I am rape spawn. My mother, a baker's daughter, was raped by a man in Lord Lannister's army. I have no love for Silas's mother's family. I can make an exception for Lord Tyrion and the Queen herself, but no other who bears the name Lannister." With that explanation Stark seemed to understand. He walked back to his seat and sat down.

"I see," he said after a few uncomfortable moments of silence. He placed both hands on his desk before looking up to look Frieda in her eyes. "Can I rely on you to keep your eyes and ears open and inform me on anything that you may learn in regards to Lord Arryn's death?" Frieda gave him a small smile.

"You can, my lord," she replied. Stark nodded his head before looking up to Silas.

"I have never liked this bloody game of thrones, as you well know Silas," he said calmly. Silas chuckled at him.

"Nor do I Eddard, but play it we must if we are to get to the truth of the matter," Silas said. Stark sighed.

"Then I shall welcome your help Frieda," he said, his voice more formal than before. "I shall employ you as a servant within my household, but you will inform me of anything that you learn should it help me with my own investigations into Lord Arryn's death." Frieda bowed her head to him.

"Very well, my lord," she said. "I shall also help by dealing with any spies that others should send to observe you. If I may take my leave?" Stark nodded his head, and Frieda stood up and left the room.

She knew that she would need to earn Stark's trust. The new Hand came across as a man with little trust for folk this side of the Neck. She did not blame him. Frieda has a hard time trusting folk herself. She calmly left the Tower of the Hand and made her way back to her rooms in the servants quarters. Once there she got changed and headed out. She had to get answers, and she knew where to start tonight. Frieda made her way through the streets of King's Landing, heading towards the warehouses. If she was to get any answers tonight, that would be a good place to start.

* * *

Cassana Stark

Cassana slashed the practice sword at Robb, slicing the air where his head had been mere moments ago. Cursing herself, she corrected her stance, bringing the sword up to parry Robb's own blow. The wooden blades hit each other, and Cassana took advantage. She pushed her right shoulder into Robb and knocked him off balance. She then followed up with a quick thrust at his belly which he avoided quickly. He spun around and slashed at her thigh, striking her with the flat of the blade. Cassana grunted at the pain, and a memory came back to her then.

 _Silas hacked and slashed at the squires in the tiltyard of the Red Keep. He was fighting boys of ten and eleven, and he was merely eight himself. Despite this he beat the boys back very easily._

 _"Can anyone beat you Prince Silas?" the master-at-arms shouted. Just then one of the squires stood behind Silas while another pushed him back. Silas was then tripped up by the boy behind him. Cassana was shocked by this behaviour. The boys then laid into him. The master-at-arms tried to break them up but the squires just ignored him, and when he waded in they hit him repeatedly, bringing him low. After a moment Cassana stomped over._

 _"LEAVE MY BROTHER ALONE!" the little six year old screeched at them, but two of the boys just laughed at her. Cassana marched up to the shorter of the two and then she punched him in the gut. The other then stepped up to help his friend, and Cassana kicked him in the groin. She then picked up the sword that he dropped and began to whack at the other squires. She hit them as hard as she could, as hard as any six year old could. After a moment Silas was back on his feet and whacking away at the boys. After ten minutes of hitting them the squires were all lying on the ground, groaning in pain. Cassana felt good with herself for having put these useless fools down. She looked at her bruised brother, who simply laughed._

 _"If I am Bittersteel, then you must be Nymeria," he proclaimed loudly. Cassana giggled._

 _"Who is Nymeria?" she asked her older brother, who then told her about the Rhonyar warrior queen._

Cassana smirked at Robb as she remembered the first time she got into a fight back at the Red Keep. Her smirk put Robb off for only a moment, and she took advantage of it. She swiped at Robb's head while pulling herself back from him. Robb leaned away from her attack, but was unprepared for her follow up attack. Cassana swung her sword upward and struck Robb between his legs, the flat of the wooden blade hitting him in his groin. Robb doubled over, dropping his sword, then falling to the ground himself. Cassana stood triumphantly over him.

"I win," she declared as Robb glared up at her. She gave him a wide smile before bending down to offer her hand to help him up. He took her hand, but rather than be helped up Robb pulled Cassana down, making her shriek out in surprise.

"Who wins?" Robb asked as he rolled her onto her front. Cassana yelps with Robb suddenly on top of her, chuckling as he grabbed her wrists in his hands and held her hands above her head.

"I am at your mercy, oh good lord," she responded playfully. Robb leaned down, his body pressing her further into the ground, or so it seemed. She felt his breath against her cheek.

"Are you now?" he teased, gently brushing his lips against her cheek. Before long Cassana felt Robb lift himself off of her, only to feel his hands on her hips. "Maybe I should show you the limits of my mercy?" he suggested, his tone playful. Cassana giggled as she felt her trousers being pulled down. Before long Robb was on top of her back once again, and shortly after Cassana gasped out as he entered her. Robb thrusted into her relentlessly, making her moan and mumble incoherently. The sounds of their lovemaking were loud to them, but as they were deep within the godswood no one would hear them.

They lay in the dirt for some time, Robb thrusting again and again, sending waves of pleasure through Cassana's body. Cassana does not know how he does it, but she enjoys Robb being with her and taking her every time. They both enjoy one another very much. Cassana knows that she cannot keep up with her husband for long; she feels herself coming to her peak. After a few moments she feels her walls tightening around Robb's length, and soon after she comes down hard around him. At the same time Robb grunts loudly as he spills his seed into her. He all but collapses on top of her, breathing heavily. Cassana wriggles beneath him, making him laugh.

"Eager to escape Cass?" he said coyly. Cassana gave him a small laugh as she looked over her shoulder at him. Robb leant down to give her a quick kiss on her lips, slowly removing himself from her. Cassana grumbled when he left her warmth.

"I hate it when you pull out of me," she said as Robb rolled off of her and began to pull his trousers up. He looked at her and smiled.

"So do I, believe me," he responded. They both stood up and pulled their clothes back into place before going back to the main keep. Once they were there Cassana left to go back to their bed chambers, where she got changed into a blue and grey dress. Once she was changed she left her room and went to the hall where she would have her dinner with her husband and his mother.

As Cassana entered the great hall she wandered over to the high table where she saw Robb sat with his mother sat to his left. Little Rickon was sat to his far right, next to the chair where Cassana would sit. She walked up to her seat, and Robb stood up and pulled her chair back for her. Cassana sat down, thanking Robb, and then the servants came up to the high table to deliver their food. Once their plates were put before them Cassana and her family began to eat. Cassana had some vegetables and venison with baked bread which she scoffed greedily, in a rather unladylike manner.

"You and Arya would definitely get on well," Catlyn had said to her once. As she ate her dinner she noticed Rickon had gotten through half of his plate already.

"People would think that Robb was making you starve with how much you eat so quickly," Cassana said to him. Rickon looked over to her and smiled.

"I'm just hungry Cass," he said. From her left Cassana heard her husband laughing.

"You're always hungry Rickon," he said. "It's just as well that you are always running around, otherwise you would get fat very quickly." Cassana laughed with Robb while Rickon just gave him a brief glance.

"What, fat like you?" he quipped, making Cassana snort with laughter. Robb nearly choked on his mouthful of food.

"Rickon!" Catlyn said in a surprised tone whilst trying hard not to laugh. While they were enjoying Rickon's jape Cassana watched as the doors to the great hall opened up. Ser Rodrik entered the room, looking harassed. Robb saw him and waved him over. Upon looking at his face Robb rose to his feet.

"What is it Ser Rodrik?" he asked. Cassana looked at the old man and saw the look of shock in his eyes.

"We have just had a rider come through the gates, my lord," he began. "The man was horribly injured, close to death. He said that he had a message for your eyes only, saying it was from Ramsey Snow." Cassana's eyes went wide. _Lord Bolton's bastard son had sent a message to Robb? But why,_ she thought as she turned to look at her husband. Robb looked uncomfortable as he looked back at her. He stepped away from the high table and walked over to Ser Rodrik.

"Mother, Cass, finish your dinners, and then get Rickon to sleep," he said. "Don't wait up for me." As he spoke Rickon made to stand up.

"Whatever it is Robb, I can help," he said. Cassana put her hand on his shoulder.

"No need little one," Robb said to him. "This is serious stuff. You don't need to see or hear this." Rickon looked at his elder brother grumpily. He tried to move but Cassana squeezed his shoulder.

"There will come a time when Robb needs your help," she said to him. "When he does he'll call for you, okay?" Rickon looked at her and stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do.

"Cassana's right Rickon," Catlyn spoke this time. "You'll have all the time in the world when you're older to give Robb help. For now though, help him by staying here and eating you dinner." That seemed to help him make his mind up as the next moment Rickon sat back down on his chair. Cassana looked to Catlyn and mouthed a quick thank you to her.

"Thank you mother, and thank you Cass," Robb said sincerely to them. "Don't worry Rickon, you'll get to help next time." After he said that Robb left the great hall.

Cassana, Catlyn and Rickon went back to eating their food, but the hall was full of tension now. Cassana ate her food quietly as she wondered what Ramsey Snow's message could possibly be. After a short while Cassana and Catlyn left the hall, taking Rickon back to his chambers. Once they were there Catlyn told Cassana that she would take care of Rickon, and thanked her for helping to keep him preoccupied. Cassana bid both her good-brother and her good-mother good night before going back to her and Robb's bed chamber. She wandered along the corridor quietly, minding her own business when she saw Theon walking towards her.

"Lady Cassana," he called out.

"Yes Theon, what is it? And drop the 'lady' nonsense," she said. Over the last few weeks she has grown used to Theon, along with his japes and the talking of his 'conquests'. He tried flirting with her to begin with, until she put him in his place by knocking him to the ground during a sparring session with her and Robb. Since then he had maintained a polite manner when in her presence.

"Robb wants to see you," he said, his face unusually serious. "He says it's rather urgent." Cassana followed Theon as he led her to where Robb was. He took her to the stables where she saw Robb stood with Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin, along with several other guardsmen and a sack lying by Robb's feet. Cassana eyed the sack with suspicion. It was just a simple sack with the bottom half of it dark. As she stepped closer Robb stepped over to her.

"You might not want to see what's inside the sack Cass," he said quietly. Cassana looked up at him and into his face. His face was sombre, and all serious looking but with no frustration, which was not like him at all. She has never seen Robb like this, not even during the tourney held in honour of her fourteenth nameday when he was competing in the melee did Robb look so serious. That time a couple of weeks ago when Robb heard the petitioner Gerrik ask for aid after a nearby village had been sacked, when he had made his decision then he looked serious and frustrated, but not as serious as he did now. Cassana realised that it must be _really_ serious if Robb had that look about him. And she did not like it.

"What is it?" she asked him. Robb looked back to the others. Maester Luwin stepped forward.

"The rider had suffered some horrific injuries my lady," he began in that sage-like voice of his. "He had been tortured beyond all sense, and his right arm had been flayed to his elbow." Cassana felt sickened by this.

"Will he make it?" she asked. Robb shook his head in answer.

"The rider is already dead Cass," he said. "He died from the wounds he suffered, along with the loss of blood and an infection. But before he died he said that Ramsey Snow was responsible for the destruction of a handful of villages across the North. The bastard has claimed responsibility for the rape and murder of many women, and has declared himself as the _Lord_ of the Dreadfort." Cassana looked at her husband, confused by this.

"That's not possible," she said. "Lord Roose Bolton is the Lord of the Dreadfort, not him. How can he claim to be the lord of anything?" As she said this her eyes fell on the sack once again. A horrible sensation within her gut began to take hold. A realisation dawned at what could be in the sack, and it sickened her just to think about it. "No," she said quietly as she stepped closer to the sack.

"My lady, I'd advise not to look into the sack," Ser Rodrik said. Cassana looked up to the older man, her face as stern as she could possibly make it.

"I have witnessed men be beheaded in the past Ser," she said calmly. "I've seen heads be displayed by Ser Ilyn in the past." Ser Rodrik seemed surprised at this admission. Cassana has seen justice be carried out a couple of times in the past, once on a murderer and once on a traitorous lord who plotted against her family. Of course her father did not know of this, and neither did her mother. Cassana certainly was not your typical princess growing up in the Red Keep. She knelt down and opened the sack to see what its contents were.

Inside the sack was a head, as she expected. But the head was that of Roose Bolton, the now former Lord of the Dreadfort. The skin on his head was horribly pale, his eyes unseeing and lifeless. There was dried blood splashed around the lower part of his jaw and some where it had seeped from his mouth. He had clearly been dead for some time, perhaps a few weeks now. Cassana stood up from the ground and looked at Robb, who was holding a letter in his hand. He handed the letter to her and she took it and began to read it.

 **To Robb Stark of Winterfell,**

 **As you will probably have gathered this letter is being delivered with my father's head. He has taught me much, but he has now outlived his usefulness to me. Not taking me to your wedding to the lovely Princess Cassana Baratheon was a very silly thing to do, so now I have decided to take action. If you truly care for the lives of the common folk of the North then you shall deliver to me your wife so that she and I can get intimately acquainted with each other. If you do not then I shall continue to attack the villages of the North and kill the people. Also I require that you stand down as Lord of Winterfell as you Starks do not deserve to rule the North.**

 **Yours sincerely,**

 **Ramsey Bolton, the Lord of the Dreadfort and true Lord of Winterfell**

Cassana was sickened by the bastard's letter. She looked at Robb and saw the look in his eyes. Now she understood that it was not just a sombre and serious expression that Robb had, but an angry one as well. She gave the letter back to him and turned to look at the other assembled men.

"Do we know anything else about this bastard? Where he is, what he is actually doing, who he's with?" Cassana asked them, her voice raising. Robb put a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, calm down," he said soothingly. "He can't get to you in here. It would be suicidal of him to attack us here. Now don't worry yourself over him." Cassana looked over to him, her eyes wide.

"Don't worry myself?" she asked incredulously. "The bastard's threatening us, demanding that you give me to him. How can I be calm and not worry when he quite clearly wants to rape me?"

"My lady," Luwin began, "as I have explained to Robb, Ramsey Snow is trying to get you angry so that you will come after him. When you do that then you will be fighting him on his terms, on ground where he will be familiar with what is around him. You must calm down and think clearly." With that advice Cassana began to stop and think about the situation. They were right she had to admit. _Rushing in sword drawn won't do us any good at all,_ she thought. _Even though I won't be doing any fighting here Luwin's words are still relevant to me._ Cassana sighed and leaned back into Robb, feeling his chest against her back.

"So what can we do?" she asked. "We can't ignore his letter. What if he does attack the small folk? We cannot allow him to walk away unpunished with everything that he has done, and we can't let him bring any more harm to others." Robb ran his hands up and down her arms.

"We will increase patrols across the North," Robb said. "It is quite clear that Ramsey Snow is out to cause trouble for all of us. So we shall deal with him properly. Maester Luwin, I want you to send word to all of the North. From Greywater Watch to the Last Hearth, from Karhold to Bear Island, I want all the lords of the North to increase their patrols and to keep an eye out for Bolton's bastard. Inform them of Lord Bolton's fate and tell them that they are to apprehend Ramsey Snow and deliver him to me as soon as they get him. Ser Rodrik, increase the training of the guards of Winterfell. I want everyone who can wield a sword trained properly and made ready to fight at a moment's notice." With their orders given Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin bowed to Robb and then left to do as they have been ordered. Robb then turned Cassana around to face him. She looked up to him and stood there for a moment before stepping closer to him, wrapping her arms around him.

"What do you want me to do?" Theon asked.

"Take that sack and have someone deal with Lord Bolton's head appropriately," he said to his friend. After a minute Cassana felt Robb's arms wrap around her shoulders. They stood like that for a few minutes before Robb broke their embrace. As they stepped apart from each other Cassana noticed that her hands were shaking slightly. She did not realise just how angry she was.

"Gods," she muttered. "What a mess." Robb leaned down and kissed her forehead gently.

"I know," he said quietly. "We'll get this sorted out soon. Don't get worked up over it. I'll deal with the little shit as soon as I can. For now, let's go and get some sleep. We'll have a long few days ahead of us." Cassana sighed as she walked beside Robb, her arm tucked through his. They walked back into the main keep and headed back towards their chambers. As they walked they came across Catlyn who was herself going to her bed.

"Robb, Cassana, are you okay?" she asked. Robb sighed.

"We'll be fine once we deal with Ramsey Snow," he said. He quickly told his mother what they had just learned not that long ago. Catlyn looked to be at a loss for words, shocked at the notion that a lord of the North had been murdered by his own son.

"What will you do Robb?" Catlyn asked as he walked past with Cassana beside him. His next words while harsh brought a sense of comfort to Cassana.

"If we don't find him soon then I'll scour the North and hunt him down," he said, his voice taking a dark tone. "No one threatens my family and gets to walk as if they have done nothing wrong."

* * *

 **Well, looks like Bolton won't be getting too far a _head_ of himself now.**

 **Sorry, I couldn't resist. So Roose Bolton is dead, and Ramsey Snow is running around now. The North has now got some unpleasant problems that it could really do without now. Ramsey Snow running around and the Dreadfort now without its Lord. Hmm...**

 **On the plus side Ned now has someone to aid him from the shadows. Let's see where this goes from here.**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN=** Here's chapter five folks. First off a couple of responses to two reviewers.

sam - I'm glad that you are enjoying this so far. In regards to Robb's handling of Ramsey Snow, let's not forget that although he has had a couple of points in the past where he has been left in charge by his father (in my story anyway) he is still young, and not calling the banners to hunt Ramsey down can be seen as a mistake that a young lord would easily make. As for why Robb has done as he has done, there is an explanation later on in this chapter as to why Robb has done so. Anyway I hope you continue to enjoy this story.

Greywing - I'm glad to see Roose dead too. I've hated him for a long time. But still his death will lead to problems in the future (I've yet to plan that far ahead with this story as I'm literally posting chapters as I finish them). I'm glad you liked my _ahead_ _joke_ at the end, I'm bad at making poor jokes like that, as I said last time I could not resist.

Right then on with the story. As always, I own nothing, GoT belongs to GRRM and HBO.

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

Eddard Stark

The last few weeks have been hard for Eddard. The journey from Winterfell to King's Landing was long, but seemed pleasant compared to the last couple of weeks spent in the capitol. His days consisted of the same routine; get up before dawn, bathe, break his fast with his children, work in his solar for an hour before holding meetings with his fellow councillors, return to his solar and work some more, have his evening meal, work a little bit more and then rest for the night. _Did Jon always feel this exhausted every day for the last twenty years,_ he thought to himself. Running the Seven Kingdoms was more than hard work. Not for the first time Eddard was glad that he did not take the Iron Throne for himself when he walked into the throne room all those years ago.

Eddard woke up this morning feeling a sense of discomfort. It was only a week until the tourney was to be held. It was a hellishly expensive affair that Eddard tried to make Robert realise was not needed. He would have gotten more luck making peace with a White Walker than talking his old friend down from holding this tourney. Still, Eddard rose from his bed and had a quick bath before he wandered down into the small hall of the Tower of the Hand. His children who had travelled with him were already up and having their breakfast. Bran was not present as he had now gone to work as Ser Lukas's squire. Summer had also gone with him. Eddard's two daughters and his baseborn son were sat at the table with their Direwolves sat nearby.

"Morning father," Sansa said as he approached them. All three of them were tucking into their food. Nymeria and Lady were lying down on the floor while Jon gave a piece of fatty bacon to Ghost.

"Morning Sansa," he replied as he sat down at the table. Jory was sat not that far from them, just finishing his breakfast. Eddard watched as his captain turned in his seat to look at him.

"Pardon me my lord, but myself and a couple of the others were wondering if we would have your permission to enter the tourney," he began. "Harwin and Desmond have voiced their desire to take part, and I wouldn't mind testing myself against these soft Southrons." Eddard held back a small smile at Jory's words. The man who was a friend to Eddard was a proven fighter, skilled with the sword, as were Harwin and Desmond. Eddard cleared his throat before he answered him.

"I see no harm in it Jory," he said. He may have been against the tourney being held with the crown's current financial situation, but Eddard saw no real reason to prevent his men from taking part. "Just remember that it is all a game to these Southrons, so try not to cause them too much harm." Jory gave him a smirk before bowing his head and turning back to finish off what was left of his breakfast. Eddard looked at his girls. "So what are your plans for today then?" he asked them. Sansa was first to answer.

"I have been invited by Queen Cersei to have tea with her and her daughter, Princess Myrcella," she said. "I shall go with Jeyne and Septa Mordane for company. Jeyne adores Lady, so she shall keep her preoccupied while the Queen and I spend time talking." Arya rolled her eyes after Sansa spoke. Eddard was wary of Cersei. She may be Robert's wife and may have kept him sane to a degree after the death of Lyanna when the war ended, but she was still a Lannister, and Eddard did not trust the Lannisters much. Still he kept his thoughts to himself. Sansa has grown up over the last three years, and knows that the world is not like the songs and stories make it out to be. He turned to look at Arya, who shrugged her shoulders as she finished her mouthful.

"Jon and I are planning to look around the Red Keep more," she said. "There is just so much that I want to look at. We'll go where we can go without being a nuisance. I just want to see if we can find any of the dragon skulls, but Jon thinks we'll never find them. Once we are done I want to go down to the Blackwater Rush. It would be nice to look across the water." Eddard nodded his head at this. He knew that if she could then Arya would try to find somewhere to practice her swordplay, and perhaps convince Jon to aid her. While he had hoped that Arya would grow out of her behaviour he knew that it would not be possible. _She's just so much like Lyanna,_ he thought. _Gods I should have sent her to foster at Bear Island._ Years ago Eddard had considered sending his daughter out to Bear Hall, the Mormont's seat on Bear Island as a ward to Lady Maege Mormont. Arya would have thrived there with Maege and her daughters. If anyone could have taught Arya to practice her sewing and other ladylike activities then Maege would have done it better than Septa Mordane. The women of House Mormont have learned the ways of battle as well as the womanly pursuits for thousands of years, due to constant Ironborn raids when the menfolk of Bear Island went fishing. Women had to learn to fight to prevent them from being taken off as salt wives by the Ironborn, where they would be subjected to a form of slavery that saw them being violated by their captors. The Mormont women are amongst the most fearsome warriors that the North has ever produced, and have somehow found the perfect balance between their warrior skills and the ladylike skills. _If only I'd sent Arya there,_ Eddard thought again.

Still, with Jon around Arya would not get herself into too much trouble, so Eddard gave her his consent. When his breakfast arrived, a plate of bacon with bread, eggs and sausages, he started to eat. He wolfed his food down, washing it down with a cup of water, and then he stood up and left the hall. He made his way to his solar, where he sat down and began to read through some letters. He read the letters, most of them being unimportant, but some had some significance. After examining those of importance he put the letters to the side and made to move. As he did he found a small letter in the writing of Frieda. He took it up and unrolled it, holding it up so that he could read it carefully.

 **Lord Eddard Stark,**

 **I have looked into a warehouse in the city. The one that Littlefinger had hired through his agents. It seems my efforts were for naught. The warehouse had been emptied before I got there. I shall be available to speak with you the next time I am in the Tower. While my search was fruitless I did learn of one potential problem that could be done with being resolved.**

 **Your humble servant,**

 **Frieda**

Eddard read the letter twice. Frieda did not succeed in getting information from the warehouse. That was a problem that would make his enquiries into Jon Arryn's death a lot harder. Still whatever was going on he was confident that Frieda would find out. Silas had spoken of the common girl with nothing but praise. If he trusted her to get to the bottom of Jon's death, the Eddard would trust her as well. Rolling the letter up and placing it in a drawer at his desk, Eddard stood up and left his solar, locking the door as he made his way down to the Small Council Chamber.

The next three hours were long and arduous for Eddard. He was sat at the table with the other councillors. Only Robert and Ser Barristan were absent. To Eddard's right sat both of Robert's younger brothers. Stannis Baratheon, the Lord of Dragonstone and Master of Ships, had his black hair cropped short, and his face clean shaven. His face was a grim mask. Only a couple of years or so younger than Eddard, Stannis looked much older than Robert does. Beside him sat Renly, the youngest. His black hair came down to his shoulders. He had grown a moustache that he kept neatly trimmed. Renly was in his early twenties, and served as the Master of Laws. He is also the Lord of Storm's End, much to Stannis's displeasure. To Eddard's left were the other councillors; Grand Maester Pycelle, a man in his advanced years who appeared to be dozing off (probably an act); Lord Varys, a eunuch who serves as the Master of Whispers with a vast spy network; and Lord Petyr Baelish, the Master of Coin, and the man Silas believes to be responsible for Jon Arryn's death. For the last three hours they all sat and listened to matters brought to their attention, discussing what to do and how to do it, with Eddard having the final say. As they finished discussing the last topic Renly spoke up.

"Now then my lords, perhaps we should move onto a more… pressing matter," he said. Stannis grumbled quietly as a man entered the chamber. The man was stout, with a small white beard and a bald head. He wore the armour of the City Watch of King's Landing, as well as their signature gold cloak. "Commander Janos Slynt, what business brings you before us?" Renly asked the man.

"My lords, my lord hand," Slynt began. "We have had a series of problems these last few weeks with an increase of crime due to the upcoming Hand's tourney." Eddard cleared his throat.

"The King's tourney Commander," he said. "I assure you, the hand wants no part of it."

"Call it what you will my lord," Slynt said politely. "But last night we had to deal with several fist fights, one erupting into a full blown brawl, two horse races in the Street of Silk, five reported rapes and one stall being set aflame." The man took a pause to catch his breath. "My men are stretched thin as it is…"

"You are the Commander of the City Watch, are you not?" Renly interrupted. "If you cannot do your duty then perhaps we should replace you with someone who will." Slynt seemed surprised at Renly's suggestion and opened his mouth to speak, but Eddard cut him off.

"We shall do whatever we can to assist in upholding the King's peace within in the city. Lord Baelish will deliver funds for hiring and training more guardsmen," he said. Baelish raised his eyebrows in surprise at Eddard's words.

"I will?" he queried.

"You managed to find the funds for this tourney, I'm sure you can find more gold to hire and train men," Eddard stated as he glared at the man. He then looked to Slynt once more. "I shall also send thirty of my own guard to assist you until the tourney has ended," he said to the man. "When the tourney is done I shall expect them to return to me." Slynt bowed his head low, a wide smile across his face.

"They shall be put to good use, my lord," he said before he took his leave. When he had left Eddard sighed.

"The sooner this blasted tourney is done, the better," he said. Stannis grunted in agreement.

"My brother, the King, will find some excuse to hold another bloody tourney soon," he replied, his voice as grim as his face. Renly shook his head as he leaned onto the table.

"Oh come now Stannis, the Kingdoms prosper when a tourney is held," he said jubilantly. Some of the other councillors voiced their agreement with Renly. After they were done Eddard rose from his seat. All the others stood as well, and Eddard dismissed them for the day.

As Eddard walked away from the chamber he decided to go down to the smithy. He has been in the capitol for two weeks now, but he has yet to see much of the place. He has heard much of the castle blacksmith, who is said to be one of Robert's many bastard sons. Gendry, Eddard believes he is called, is said to be a talented smith, forging steel into whatever shape he desired, focusing on functionality over embellishment. Eddard decided that he wanted to see his work. He walked along the corridors of the Red Keep until he came across the entrance to the smithy. As he passed through the door he saw Harwin standing near a rack of freshly forged swords. The young guardsman, whose father was Eddard's master of horse, was admiring the craftsmanship of the blades. Eddard walked over to him and stood next to him.

"Admirable work," Eddard observed. Harwin jumped at hearing his liege lord's voice and immediately bowed.

"Sorry milord," Harwin said. "I didn't see you there."

"Calm down Harwin," Eddard said to him. The guardsman relaxed and looked back at the swords on the rack. "What brings you here anyway? I thought you already have a sword?" He turned to look at Harwin, who was still looking at the swords.

"I brought my sword down to have it repaired milord," he said. "I damaged it yesterday while training, got a bit too enthusiastic with my slashing and struck the wall behind the practice dummy. Blunted the tip of the sword, so I had to get it repaired. I heard that the blacksmith here is good at his work, so I decided to go see him." Just as Harwin finished speaking a young man walked over to them holding a longsword in his hands.

"Here you go," the man said as he passed the repaired sword to Harwin. Eddard turned to look at him, and was shocked by what he saw. Looking right back at him was a man who looked very much like Robert did at twenty, with a clean shaven face. His hair was as black as black could be, and his eyes a piercing blue. There was no denying it; this was Gendry Waters, Robert's bastard son. He was the spitting image of Robert. Silas was a balance between his mother and father in terms of facial features, but Gendry was the exact mirror image of Robert. "Milord?" the young man asked. Eddard cursed himself internally and schooled his features.

"My apologies, I just came down to inspect your handiwork," Eddard said to him. Gendry looked at him suspiciously for a moment before his eyes widened.

"You're the new Hand, aren't you?" he asked before giving Eddard a slight bow. "What would you like to inspect?" Gendry's voice was respectful, but at the same time concerned. Eddard gave him a small smile.

"No need to be concerned Gendry," he said. "I have heard much from the Crown Prince about your skills in the smithy. I just wanted to see for myself how good your work is." Gendry gave Eddard a slight smile, probably at the mention of Silas.

"Of course milord," he replied.

Gendry spent the next half hour showing Eddard around the smithy. Eddard noticed many fine pieces of work. Swords, axes, arrow heads, spear tips, suits of armour. At the back of the smithy was an impressive suit of steel armour. The breast plate was as wide as Gendry, with simple designs on it; the thigh guards were forged to fit Gendry's thighs with ease, just as the arm guards were forged to fit his arms; the boots came halfway up the shins. On a stand next to it was a shirt of ringmail hanging above a pair of boiled leather trousers. The most impressive piece however was a bull's head helmet that rested above the breastplate. It was the only part of the armour that was forged with some embellishment as well as simple functionality. Eddard was impressed with the effort that Gendry seemed to put into his work.

"You must be proud of this work?" he enquired. Gendry gave Eddard a wide smile.

"It took me years to get this armour done," he answered. "It's for me to use. I intend to train to become a knight one day." Eddard looked at him, surprised at this revelation.

"Intend to change profession?" he asked. Gendry shook his head.

"I'll never stop forging swords and armour," he said. "But I'll never need another blacksmith to repair my own arms and armour." Eddard nodded in understanding. He stood there admiring the armour for a little bit longer before he turned to look at Gendry.

"Well if the day comes that you would rather swing a sword instead of forge one, come find me, alright," he said.

"I will milord," Gendry said. With that Gendry showed Eddard out.

A few hours had passed since Eddard had visited Gendry. During that time he had looked over several letters that he had needed to go over. Much of the time he spent as Hand involved reading letters and giving advice to Robert. It was now only half an hour away from supper, and now Eddard was meeting with Frieda. The young woman had her dark blonde hair tied back in a simple plait. She was wearing basic servant's attire, but Eddard noticed a slight bulge of the sleeve of her left arm, where she hid a dagger. She had sat down on the seat in front of Eddard's desk when he offered her to do so, while he stood.

"So you didn't find anything at the warehouse then?" he asked her. Frieda shook her head.

"No my lord," she replied. "When I got there the whole place was deserted. Completely empty of anything except for a body. A man, who had been stabbed repeatedly it seemed. I got closer and saw that it was Lord Marlon Buckwell, the man I had questioned the previous night." Eddard sank into his seat then, not happy with her news. "I can only guess that whoever killed him must have realised that someone had spoken to him, so they killed him and left his body there to be found. Not long after I discovered his body several armed men came barging into the warehouse, swords drawn. It was a very simple trap, but the fools were not counting on a young woman who could outrun them. I was able to slip past them and lure them back into the city, where I could separate and kill them. The last one I killed I tried to question, but it was just my luck that the man had no tongue." Eddard sighed once Frieda finished talking.

"So for now you are out of leads I take it?" he asked. Frieda nodded her head grimly.

"I'll find something else to follow soon. I always do Lord Stark," she declared. Eddard leaned forward over the table, resting his chin on his hands as he did.

"In your letter you mentioned that there was another problem to deal with?" he asked. Frieda gave him a troubled look as she shifted in her seat.

"As I was being chased by those men I overheard two of them talking about a 'Commander' who had ordered them to kill me," she said. "I dismissed it until a couple of days ago when I listened in to two Gold Cloaks talking about how Commander Slynt was furious that he had lost several of his men who were investigating a warehouse. Can you guess when these men might have perished?" Eddard's eyes widened at this.

"Around the time you looked into this warehouse?" he asked, to which Frieda nodded her head. This was not good at all. Unless those men were talking about something else that had happened it seemed that Janos Slynt was in league with Lord Baelish. This news did not sit well with Eddard. "If Slynt is working for Lord Baelish then it means that the City Watch are unreliable to call upon for dealing with any trouble." Frieda nodded in agreement.

"Half of the Gold Cloaks are no better than sell-swords my lord," she said. "They are loyal to whoever pays their wages. Which just so happens to be our good old Master of Coin." Eddard stood up from his seat, rubbing a hand over his bearded chin.

"In that case we need to take action," he stated. "I'm loath to play these underhanded games, but you know this world of intrigue better than I ever will. Can you look into Commander Slynt's activities and uncover evidence that will prove his corruption?" Frieda stood up herself, a delighted smile lighting up her face.

"That is what I was hoping you'd ask me to do Lord Stark," she said enthusiastically. With a quick bow the young woman left Eddard's solar. Eddard stood in the room for some time, thinking over what he had just learned. It troubled him to no end that the Commander of the City Watch was corrupt, and he was sending thirty of his men to assist the man with his duties. Sighing once more, Eddard left his solar and made his way to the small hall for his supper.

* * *

Jon Snow

So far Jon was enjoying his time in the capitol. The only thing that he could not stand was the heat. Still he found that the city was an interesting place. Ghost seemed not too bothered by the place, but like his siblings he preferred the night which was usually cooler. The southern heat was not well liked by the Direwolves it seemed. Sansa was enjoying herself despite her initial discomfort at travelling south. She had spent this afternoon in the company of the Queen, and had brought her friend Jayne Poole as well as her Septa. Jon had wandered around the Red Keep with Arya for most of the day. They had watched the Baratheon guardsmen train along with the Lannister men; they listened in as King Robert heard petitions from nobles and smallfolk; they climbed to the top of one of the other towers of the Red Keep. A few times they were approached by guardsmen who were wondering what they were doing. When that happened it was the same story; Jon was chasing after Arya to get her to a class that she was supposed to have. The excuse seemed to work until the fifth time, when the guardsman, a tall broad-shouldered fellow in Baratheon colours, who approached them offered to assist Jon in escorting Arya back to wherever she was meant to be. Jon had allowed the man to do so as refusing him might have caused trouble that their father might hear about. Once the guardsman had wandered off Jon decided it would be best for them to go down to the Blackwater, with a couple of training swords that Arya had pilfered from the armoury. They had spent a couple of hours training with each other, Arya trying hard to beat Jon and always failing. For every strike she tried to land Jon managed to counter or parry; for every lunge a block; for every slash a dodge. On and on it went until Arya was too exhausted to carry on. When they were done they made their way back to the Tower of the Hand, where they were now.

Jon was tucking into his meal as the girls ate their own food. Sansa was chatting away with Jeyne about their afternoon with Queen Cersei while Arya listened in to Jory and a couple of the other guardsmen. Jon just sat there quietly eating away. While he ate he saw his father walk into the small hall. Eddard Stark looked tired and frustrated until he saw his children. When he saw them he smiled, setting all thoughts aside as he took his seat beside Jory. Jon watched as a servant walked over to him with a plate of food. Jon finished his mouthful of food as Sansa looked over to their father.

"How was your day?" she asked. Father looked back to his daughter as he put his fork into his mouth. He crunched his food while he pondered how best to answer Sansa's question.

"Stressful," he finally answered after he swallowed the food down. "More troubles to deal with in regards to the running of the country, not to mention the tourney causing trouble." Jon only half listened as his father spoke with Sansa about the various crimes and other problems that the City Watch was having to deal with. As they continued to speak Jon thought more and more about Lady Sophia Umber.

When they were still in Winterfell Lady Sophia did not give Jon any peace at all. She had followed Jon wherever he went, chasing after him like a lost puppy. He remained as polite as possible, not finding it in him to be rude to her. She was a nice enough girl, but she was far too forward for Jon's liking. On the night of Robb and Cassana's wedding she continued to pester him, until everyone had gone to get some sleep that night. Jon thought back to that night, when things changed.

 _The guests made their way back to their rooms, some of the lords grumpy at the bedding ceremony being called off. Jon had quietly laughed as Robb threatened them with becoming the next meal of the Direwolves. After Robb and Cassana had left to consummate their marriage the King told the lords they would get their proof of consummation in the morning. Jon sat at the table, finishing his drink as the others had left. Half an hour after Robb and Cassana had left, the King and Queen left. About twenty minutes later they were followed by Jon's father and Lady Stark, who both took the girls as well as Bran and Rickon to bed too. Soon after that others began to leave the great hall. Jon was just about to get up when he saw Sophia Umber stagger through the doors leading outside. Curiosity made Jon follow her outside. He had managed to avoid her during the feast until it came to the dancing, where she had managed to drag him off to dance with her. She was a little bit tipsy by that point. When Jon found her outside by the stables she looked like she was a bit worse than before. She leaned against the stable wall, her body lowered over as she began to cough. Jon was just down the steps when he saw her vomit onto the floor. Jon hung back then, not quite sure what to do. As he watched Sophia be sick he noticed a man in Lannister colours walk over to her._

 _"Well, well, well, what have we got here?" he said, his tone lecherous as he continued to approach her. Jon took one look at the man and decided he did not like him. Sophia stood upright at hearing the man. "A poor drunk northern whore I'll bet." Sophia was clearly angry at the man's words._

 _"How dare you, Ser!" she snapped. Before she could talk again the man put a hand over her mouth and pushed her into the stable, moving fast. Jon froze at that, his mind filling with images of a few years ago; a Frey knight who was part of an escort of men taking a son of Lord Walder Frey to the Wall, and Sansa talking with said knight who initially seemed kind and chivalrous, before a couple of hours later Jon had ran into the courtyard upon hearing her scream. When he got there he found Sansa slumped on the floor, her back against a wall and her skirts torn. Lady was sat next to her, her jaws dripping with a dark red liquid. A few feet away lay the Frey knight, his throat ripped open and his breeches down around his ankles, his member bare for everyone to see. It was clear what had nearly happened. Sansa had a lucky escape that night, because if Lady was not there then she would have been raped by the Frey knight. It was that man that had led to Sansa's change in attitude a few years ago. Even though she was never raped Jon still felt he had failed his little sister that night._

 _As the memory of a few years ago played in his head Jon rushed over to the stable as fast as he could. He got to the door and saw the Lannister man pin Sophia against the wall at the back. Sophia struggled against him, trying to claw the man's face. The man pushed her into the wall and began to pull her skirts up. Jon stomped over to him and slammed his elbow into the man's back. The man cried out in pain, letting go of Sophia who stood there stunned by what was happening. The man turned to throw his fist at Jon, who stepped to the side and punched the man in the face. The Lannister man stumbled to the ground, his face landing on a pile of horse manure. The man spat manure out of his mouth as he stood up. Jon stood in front of Sophia, glaring at the man._

 _"You fucking northern shit," he spat as he rubbed manure off his face. "You'll be sorry for this, do you hear me?"_

 _"Not as sorry as you'll be when her father hears about this," Jon replied, his voice dripping with malice as he spoke to the man._

 _"Her father?" he laughed. "As if I'm scared of some northern whore's cunt of a father." Jon gave the man an angry look. Before he could say anything Sophia stepped beside him._

 _"As I was about to say before you interrupted me Ser," she began, "I am Lady Sophia of House Umber, the daughter of the Greatjon Umber of Last Hearth." At the mention of one of the most feared men of the North the Lannister man paled in fright. "Mark my words when my lord father hears of this you'll be begging for a quick death before you are given one." Jon watched as the man began to shake with fear. He was amazed as the man dropped to his knees and began to beg for his life. Jon and Sophia listened to him for a moment before they had had enough. "Be gone from our sight worm," she spat. The man stood up and ran from them. After a moment Jon turned to look at Sophia, who was now on her knees, shaking like a leaf. Her eyes were filled with tears which began to streak her face._

 _"My lady?" Jon said as he approached her. Sophia looked up at him and sniffled._

 _"I'll never be married, will I?" she asked despairingly, confusing Jon with the sudden change in topic._ She has come close to being raped and she is more worried about not ever getting married, _Jon thought. "The only men who will ever notice me will be honourless curs like that one. No man wants me for a wife." She began to cry uncontrollably. Jon knelt down beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. He let her cry a bit more before speaking._

 _"No one worthy of you will want you if you keep acting the way you do," he said honestly. It was harsh of him to say that, but it was true. Sophia looked at him through her teary eyes. "You are too forward, and that scares many men off I think. They see how you behave and they ignore how lovely you look because your attitude puts them off." Jon's words seemed to have caught Sophia's attention. She looked at him and stopped crying for a time before her sobs started again. This time they were quieter. Sophia shifted so that she was sat down on the floor before she looked at Jon again._

 _"I was supposed to be married a few years ago," she said when she got her sobs under control. "My father arranged for me to marry a man from White Harbour when I was thirteen. I had just bled, and I was so excited. A minor lordling sworn to House Manderly was to be my husband. When it got closer to my wedding I met him. I fell in love there and then, I even let him take my maidenhead a few nights before we were to marry." Jon looked at her, surprised at this admission. "But then the day of our wedding came, and he left to go to the Wall and take the black. I was so humiliated. I had fallen in love and I thought he loved me back. I told my brother Jon what happened between us. He was shocked but he didn't tell my father that I dishonoured myself. He got a hold of some moon tea for me, which is easy for him as he is forever taking prostitutes to his bed, but he at least has the brains to make sure they don't bring a bastard of his into the world. Since then I have tried to get a husband for myself, but now I… I…" Sophia started to cry again, but this time Jon did not need to hear anymore. He leaned over and wrapped an arm over her shoulder. He let her cry for a bit longer before he stood her up. When they were on their feet Jon looked into her eyes._

 _"I'm sorry for what happened to you, my lady," he said. "You despair when you don't need to. One day you will find a man worthy of you who will marry you and bring you happiness." His words were reassuring, and they seemed to take root with Sophia. She looked up at him and nodded. "Now come on, let's leave these stables and get some sleep." Sophia managed a small smile. Just before they left though Sophia stepped up on her toes and kissed Jon on his cheek._

 _"It's a shame you're a bastard Jon," Sophia said. "You would be an excellent husband if my father would allow it." Jon smiled at her. As he made to move Sophia grabbed his arm. "I know what nearly happened to me just now, but I also know what I want," she said as she leaned in closer. Jon felt his heart thump at a faster pace._

 _"My lady," he began but Sophia cut him off._

 _"Sophia," she corrected before she placed her lips upon his. Jon was stunned by this. He did not want Sophia to cause herself any heart ache, but he did not want to hurt her by breaking off, so he stood there and let her kiss him. Before long their kiss deepened, and Jon was holding onto her arms, leaning down so she would not have to lean up to him. After a minute Sophia broke the kiss. "I know you don't want me due to our social stations, but I wish you would take me," she said in a quiet voice. Jon felt a tightness in his trousers that he had felt many times, but not with Sophia. He shook his head and cupped her cheek with his hand._

 _"I know Sophia," he said before he leant down and kissed her again. His was a chaste kiss, quick and polite. He broke off quickly, leaning back to look into her eyes. "But I won't risk leaving you with a bastard in your belly." Sophia gave him a small smile and then took his arm as he led her back into the castle._

That night with Sophia had been an eye opener for Jon. He had not thought about Sophia as anything other than a forward woman obsessed with being bedded. Now though Jon understood her behaviour. She was desperate for love, desperate for affection from a man not of her family. That night as he slept his mind wandered to Sophia; he wondered how she would taste, how she would feel around his member. He thought of bedding her that night, but he had stayed true to his own code. But since that night Sophia would not leave his thoughts. He almost cursed the woman for clouding his thoughts at night. She was a lovely woman, but Jon knew he had no chance with her. _What highborn woman would ever take a bastard for a husband,_ he thought. _And what father would ever allow his daughter to marry a bastard?_ Still the one thing that puzzled Jon was why Sophia showed any interest in him when there were other unmarried men from other Houses. It was something that he could not stop thinking about. _Why me? Why did she show me more interest rather than one of Lord Karstark's sons? She really is a strange woman,_ he thought.

As the night drew to a close Jon walked back to his chambers after bidding his father and sisters good night. The place seemed quieter now that Bran was serving as Ser Lukas's squire. It was weird having his little brother away from them and yet not really that far away at all. Jon often wondered how he was getting on with the knight. Jon knew that Bran would not have an easy time of it with Lukas training him, but he also knew that Lukas would take care of him. One thing that Bran would look forward to was spending time with Silas, seeing as Lukas is Silas's sworn shield. Learning to be a knight and spending time with the future king certainly was a dream come true for Bran. The thought made Jon smile. He entered his room, holding the door open for Ghost as he passed, the giant beast padding along the floor to his pen. Ghost looked up to Jon with a sad look in his eyes.

"No Ghost, you're far too big to sleep in the bed next to me," Jon chuckled. If Ghost was not so quiet Jon was sure he would have whined at his words. Instead Ghost looked at Jon with pleading eyes before turning back and walking over to his pen, where a fur rug lay to serve as his bed. Ghost settled down on the fur while Jon closed the door and undressed for the night. Once he was done Jon lay down on his bed and blew out the candle by his bedside. "Good night Ghost," he said to the Direwolf before he pulled the light covers up and closed his eyes.

* * *

Torrhen Karstark

The wind howled over the hills as the large party travelled across the cold land of the North. The snow was melting slightly, but it would never completely go away, not in the North. Even though winter had passed many months back the snow would still fall, but mercifully the roads were clear. Torrhen looked over his shoulder at the fifty men under his command. Born the second son of Lord Rickard Karstark, Torrhen was the spare; Harrion would inherit Karhold when father passed away or stood down, and Torrhen would be a minor lordling sworn to his elder brother. Not that he minded such a fate, as he had no desire to go to the Wall like his younger brother Eddard once thought about doing, back when he was still alive.

Eddard Karstark was the youngest son, who now rested in the family crypt after being killed by pirates a year ago. Torrhen's father had called for aid after an unusually large pirate band was sighted off the east coast. Their ships were damaged, so they had nowhere to go until they could repair their ships, but they caused trouble for the people under the Karstarks protection. Most of the men around Karhold were able bodied, but they were scattered with the weather and therefore would not necessarily answer their lord's call to arms as quickly as they usually would, so Torrhen's father sent word out to other lords as well. The Umbers answered Torrhen's father's request for aid, as had Robb Stark. It was Robb's planning that brought the pirates down; and it was due to Robb being endangered that Eddard had died. Robb was pushed to the ground by a big bull of a man while his Direwolf companion was too far off to aid him. Eddard had intervened, hacking at the man and cutting him in half, but another pirate slashed his throat open. The pirate in question was decapitated by Robb, who then stood by Eddard's body until the battle was done. Torrhen and Harrion were saddened by Eddard's death, and so was their father; but their grief was nothing compared to the grief of their little sister Alys, who had wailed when Eddard's body was brought home. Torrhen and his brother and father did not blame the Young Wolf for Eddard's death, but Alys held some resentment towards him. Alys loves all of her brothers without fault. Sure she would pick the occasional fight with them, but she always loved them and could never stay angry with them for too long. But after Eddard's death she became more worried for her remaining brothers, and always got uptight whenever a raven came from Winterfell.

Torrhen and his siblings all had their father's colouring of brown hair and blue-grey eyes, with the boys having beards. Torrhen's beard was closely trimmed while his hair was a few inches long, almost touching his shoulders. Alys, who was riding with them, had her long hair woven into a braid. She was tall, skinny, and had a long face and pointy chin. The long face and hair colouring that the Karstarks had was due to their ancestry, as House Karstark is after all an offshoot branch of House Stark. Torrhen looked back over his shoulder yet again to look at Alys, who was directly behind him. The fifty men were assigned to protect Alys as they travelled to Hornwood. Alys was due to marry the heir to Hornwood, Daryn, and Torrhen was escorting his little sister there to hand her over to Daryn and represent his father who was at the Last Hearth arranging a marriage between Harrion and one of Lord Umber's daughters. Harrion meanwhile was managing Karhold in their father's absence.

Torrhen slowed his horse down so he could chat with Alys, who had been quiet for most of the journey. They were only an hour away from Hornwood now, and the closer they got the quieter Alys got.

"Hey Alys," Torrhen said as he came beside her. "Why are you so quiet?" Alys looked at him, her eyes dark with silent annoyance.

"Next stupid question Torr," she said bluntly. Torrhen sighed.

"Come now sister, you have been far too quiet recently," he said. "Is it the wedding that is making you nervous?" Alys shook her head. "Then what?" Alys remained silent. This was not like her at all. Once she would be talking his ear off all day. It worried Torrhen more than the reason why they had a large escort.

"I just wished father was seeing me off," she finally answered after a long minute. "It would be easier to deal with if he had come as well. And I wish Edd were here too." Torrhen bowed his head low. Of course she would want her whole family there. As they continued Alys gave out a loud huff of frustration. "Oh why must we go at this slow pace? We could have been there days ago. And why so many guardsmen?" Torrhen rolled his eyes.

"You know why Alys," he said. "You heard father when the raven from Winterfell came the other day. Lord Bolton is dead, may the Old Gods curse his soul, and his bastard is running rampant around the North, murdering and raping wherever he goes." Alys wrinkled her nose before looking at him.

"So? Anyway the same message said that Snow threatened his wife, Princess Cassana," she replied.

" _Lady_ Cassana, Alys," he corrected her. Alys shrugged her shoulders. "Despite the little fool's threat towards Robb's wife he could still attack anyone else, be it a common fisherman's wife, a whore, or even a highborn lady like yourself. We just can't take the risk."

"Then why not call the banners to deal with him?" she asked, her voice loud. Torrhen smirked.

"What, call the banners for one man and his band of merry murderers?" Torrhen retorted, trying not to laugh. "An army of several thousand men hunting such a man and his group would be impractical. The bastard would spot so many men before they saw him. Large patrols across the North, while slow, would have a much better chance of finding him and his men. Fewer men can move quicker and more quietly than a large army. If I know Robb, he wants to catch the son of a bitch, not chase him to ground where he can hide." Alys fell silent after that. Torrhen looked back to the front as he spurred his horse to go further forward.

For nearly an hour they travelled along the road, getting closer to Hornwood. The men were eager to get inside a castle and get some warmth in their bones. Torrhen could not blame them. They were going a little bit slower than they had done, making Alys more uncomfortable. She accused Torrhen of making them go slower as a poor jape, which made him laugh. Now they were a few minutes away from their destination, and Torrhen looked forward to settling down for a short while. Not for the first time Torrhen was glad that his father had insisted on a simple carriage to carry Alys's belongings to Hornwood, which was faster than a wheelhouse. Now they were about to pass the trees to see Hornwood when one of the men that Torrhen sent ahead of them came racing back to them.

"Milord!" the man shouted. "There's smoke coming from the castle, and the gate has been broken down." Torrhen's eyes widened, his heart raced.

"What?!" he barked. He looked over his shoulder to his men. "You four," he called to some men, pointing at them. "You are to protect my sister, do you understand?" The men nodded their heads, their hands gripping their swords.

"What is it Torr?" Alys asked, clearly frightened. Torrhen looked at her.

"I'm not sure, but stay with those men no matter what," he ordered. He then looked at the men assembled behind him. "MEN OF KARHOLD, STAND TO! READY ARMS AND FOLLOW!" he bellowed as he drew his longsword, before leading them to Hornwood. As they passed the woods he saw the castle. It looked like it had been sitting idle for years. Its walls were intact, but the gate had been broken off completely, its splintered remains littering the ground. The entire place seemed deserted. Torrhen took twenty men and went in through the gateway, and when he was on the other side he felt sick to his stomach.

The courtyard of Hornwood was littered with the dead. Men in the Hornwood colours lay down, cold and lifeless, blood dried on their deathly pale skin and gambesons. Torrhen dismounted his horse. He walked over to one man who was slumped over something. He moved the corpse with his boot only to find the body of a little girl, her eyes unseeing, and her throat pierced by an arrow. One of Torrhen's men cursed at the sight. Looking around him Torrhen took in the scenes of devastation. A group of men dead with their swords drawn, their bodies bloodied; a couple of servants hanging upside down from the walls, stripped and disembowelled with blood drenching their upper bodies; several horses butchered along the ground, left in a bloody mess; a child swinging from a window, a rope around his neck.

"Sort this fucking mess out," Torrhen growled to his men as he walked back to where Alys would be waiting. As he reached the ruined gate a guardsman approached him.

"Milord," he said. "Some of the men found Lord Hornwood's family." Torrhen turned to look at the guardsman, who looked pale as a ghost.

"Well?" he asked. The man gulped.

"Lord Hornwood is dead. His head removed and placed on his desk in his solar," the man replied. "His son, Lord Daryn, is also dead, having been flayed before being killed. Lady Hornwood however…" The man trailed off. Torrhen frowned as he thought about what could have happened to her. He decided he did not wish to know what became of her, as he knew she would have suffered worse than her husband and son. Torrhen felt sick and angry. He knew Daryn Hornwood, and felt that he would be a decent man who would treat his sister kindly. His death was senseless. But with everything that seemed to have happened, it was clear who did this. Torrhen walked out to where his sister was. Alys looked at him, her eyes wide. It looked like she knew what to expect from him.

"Torr?" she asked. He shook his head.

"The Hornwood's are dead," he said. He explained to her what had happened and what he saw, taking care to give her as few details as possible. When he was done Alys looked horrified. She urged her horse forward, but Torrhen held his hand up to her. "No Alys," he said. "It's best if you don't…" Torrhen was cut off by the sound of steel clashing upon steel. As he turned he saw several men emerge from the nearby woods, readying their longbows. "ALYS GET DOWN!" he shouted just as the first arrows flew towards them. One of the guardsmen was hit in the side of his neck while a second caught an arrow to his eye. Alys screamed in fright at the sight of blood and death and rode her horse into the courtyard. Torrhen yelled at her not to enter, running off after her. As they entered Torrhen stopped in his tracks, and for the first time in a long time he felt fear grip his heart.

The courtyard was flooded with dozens of men who were not there before, all armed and armoured for battle. Their gambesons and the chainmail they wore beneath made them stand apart from Torrhen's men who wore boiled leather and ringmail. These men were fierce, screaming their battle cries and hacking with their swords at Torrhen's men. He watched as his men fought their attackers, watching one of his men slash at an attacker's belly before another thrusts a spear into his back; he sees two of his men overwhelmed as they are pierced by sword blades and spear tips; he sees a man cut down four of the attackers before the man's sword arm is hacked off, and then has his throat opened by his assailant's dirk. All over it was pure chaos. Torrhen looked up to his sister.

"Alys, you need to leave," he barked. Alys looked down at him.

"No, I won't leave you brother," she stated, her voice determined yet laced with fright.

"Now's not the time to argue sister," he yelled at her. He then looked at the six men around her. "All of you, ride hard and get my sister away from here. Take her either back to Karhold or if you can't get there to White Harbour."

"Yes milord," one of them said just as two men ran to them, their swords raised in anticipation of making a kill. Torrhen threw himself at them, charging into one man shoulder first before he slashed his sword down into the shoulder of the other. That man screamed as Torrhen's blade bit into his flesh, the edge cutting down into his chest. He yanked the blade free, blood spraying onto his boiled leather armour, before he thrust it into the throat of the man he downed, twisting it before he drew it back out. He then turned to face Alys and her guards.

"TORR!" she yelped, the colour draining from her face at the violence around them.

"NO TIME!" he bellowed back. "GET OUT OF HERE NOW DAMN IT!" With that Alys urged her horse, riding out of the courtyard surrounded by the six men Torrhen ordered to follow her. He followed them out quickly to see the thirty men he left outside furiously fighting the men who emerged from the woods. He watched as Alys and her guards rode away from the men, fleeing south. "Go little sister," he whispered to himself as he turned to face a group of men come charging out to him.

Torrhen raised his blade to block the attack of the first man to strike at him. The attacker's strike was clumsy and easily deflected. As he pushed his blade to the side throwing the man off balance Torrhen swiped his sword against the cur's belly, opening him up and spilling his guts over the ground. Another man rushed him, but Torrhen stepped to the side and hacked his sword at his back, blood splashing up from the wound as the blade hit the man, sending him down. A third and fourth came at him, the one on the right with a spear while the one on the left had an axe. Torrhen smacked his sword into the spear head, snapping it off from the haft. The axeman swung for him but Torrhen ducked under the swing. As he stood up he grabbed the axe by the handle and yanked it out from the attacker, thrusting his sword into the man's chest as he pulled the axe away from him. Using the momentum from that attack Torrhen swung the axe into the spearman who was just drawing his sword. The axe head smashed into the spearman's ribs with enough force to break said ribs, sending the man sprawling to the ground. Looking over his shoulder Torrhen saw that only three of his twenty men fighting in the courtyard were left, and they were losing ground. Letting go of his sword, Torrhen turned to face the downed spearman. He raised the axe above his head.

"Please, no," the spearman gasped. Ignoring him, Torrhen slammed the axe down onto the man's neck, severing the head from the body. As he stood upright Torrhen noticed that the man soiled himself before he had beheaded him. _Craven fool,_ he thought bitterly. He wandered over to where his sword was, still lodged in the chest of the axeman. With some effort he freed his sword from the corpse before rushing back into the courtyard with sword and axe. One of his men had just been perforated by numerous spears. Looking over his shoulder once more to see his men outside still fighting the men emerging from the woods, Torrhen roared his anger as he charged into the attackers.

"FOR KARHOLD!" he shouted as he swung the axe down into the skull of one man, splitting his head open from scalp to chin and striking with such force that the blade got stuck in the man. Torrhen let go of the weapon and started swinging his sword. He swung to the left, and took half of a man's head off just above his mouth; he swung to the right, and slashed another's throat open spraying blood all over; he drew his arm behind him and made a downward diagonal slash, and cut a man open from his left shoulder to just above his right hip. The two surviving guardsmen fought their way to him. Torrhen blocked and parried the blows of one man who seemed to be more skilled than any other that he had fought so far. As he raised his sword to block another strike he realised his error too late; the man fainted a strike to his right only to pull back and quickly jab the tip of his sword into Torrhen's left thigh. Yelling out in pain, Torrhen struck out, aiming for the man's head, but the attacker swung his sword upwards and knocked Torrhen off balance, leaving him vulnerable. Before he could take advantage of the opening one of Torrhen's men from the fight outside rode into the courtyard and slashed his sword down at the man, killing him as he rode past.

"Milord," shouted another guardsman who rode in with eight others. "We're being overwhelmed. There are over a hundred attackers out there." Torrhen looked at the man, his heart racing as the pain in his thigh flared up.

"Where are the rest of our men?" he asked.

"Dead," came the reply.

"Fuck," Torrhen responded just as another attacker charged at him. Fuelled by his anger, Torrhen swung his sword down onto the attacker's sword, shattering the blade. The man stood stunned before his face grimaced in agony as Torrhen stabbed him in the gut and slowly drew the blade out. "Fuck!" he yelled again as an arrow flew past his ear, hitting one of his men in his leg. He thrust his sword into the side of an attacker who was about to stab one of Torrhen's men in the back. "FUCK!" he shouted out. "LET'S KILL THESE WHORESONS!" he bellowed, giving in to his rage as he slashed and swung at the enemy.

For the next hour Torrhen and his remaining men fought their attackers. They reaped a heavy toll on their enemy, killing dozens of them for every one of their own who fell. Torrhen fought his way to the ramparts on the wall above him to kill the archers that were raining arrows onto his men. By then only a handful of his men remained. As he stepped up to kill one archer who had his back to him he saw dozens more men outside the castle. He hoped that Alys and her guards got away. He turned his attention back to the archers. There were five of them, none of whom had noticed him yet. Torrhen stalked towards the man in front of him, shoving him off of the wall. He then rushed to the next man, slashing his throat open. The third archer saw him and shouted to the others. Torrhen cut his thigh open and sliced the side of his neck, severing the artery there. He ran to the fourth man who was reaching for an arrow. Torrhen smashed his forehead down onto his nose and then grabbed him, moving him between him and the fifth and final archer who loosed off his arrow; the arrow struck the fourth archer in the back of his neck. Throwing the dying man to the side Torrhen charged at the last archer who had just knocked another arrow. As he was drawing the bowstring Torrhen thrust his sword into the man's chest, right through the heart. He pulled the sword back and turned just as an arrow punched into his right shoulder. White hot pain seared through him as he staggered back to the ramparts of the wall. He grabbed the shaft and broke it off, leaving the arrow head in him. He leaned against the wall and looked over to the woods, where he saw dozens of men riding on horseback emerge. All of those men were charging at the attackers assembled outside, their lances levelled ready as they advanced. In the distance Torrhen saw some banners, all with the same sigil; the green merman of House Manderly. Torrhen breathed a sigh of relief at the sight. He watched as the first Manderly knights smashed into the enemy below, trampling them into the dirt or impaling them on their lances.

As he watched a group of men approached him. He turned to see them get closer; nine men with swords caked with blood held ready, while a tenth stood with a longbow in his hand and a quiver of arrows on his back. The bowman had dark brown hair and grey eyes that showed nothing but pure malice, contempt even. Torrhen stood up, readying his sword as three men ran to him. He parried the first man's strike and kicked him in the leg before pushing him into the path of the other two, sending one of them off of the wall and back down into the courtyard. Another ran at him waving his sword like a lunatic. Torrhen stepped to the side as the sword came down to meet him only to hit the stone of the wall. Torrhen thrust his sword into the man's side. Just as he was going to remove his blade he felt pain in his left leg as an arrow hit him. He reached down for the wound, clamping his hand onto it to stop the flow of blood. He looked up and saw the bowman lower his bow, a wicked smile on his face.

"Well this turned out to be a lovely day," he said. "It's a shame that I couldn't get that lovely lady. I'm sure she would've been wonderful to fuck. But never mind." As he spoke his men gathered around Torrhen. He glared at the scum as they raised their swords up. "It was fun putting the Hornwoods out of their misery. They were weak, and this land belongs to us Boltons, not those useless Hornwood cunts." As the man spoke Torrhen realised who he was.

"You'll never win Snow," Torrhen spat. "The Starks will destroy you if my father doesn't first." The bastard smirked at him; it was an arrogant smirk that unsettled him.

"Ramsey, we need to leave," one of his men said to him.

"Oh we will my friend, but first," Snow said as he nodded to the men gathered around Torrhen. "This Karstark shit killed quite a few of our friends. Let our boys get some revenge." With that the men stood in front of him thrust their swords into Torrhen. Torrhen cried out as his entire body was engulfed in agony from the blades that pierced him. One by one the men slowly withdrew their blades, a couple of them twisting them as they did. When the last sword was pulled out Torrhen gasped, and looked down at his body. His entire front seemed to run red as his blood flooded out from his body, splashing onto the floor below. The pain that engulfed him seemed to slowly fade away, along with everything else. Torrhen swayed backwards to the edge of the ramparts and felt his legs hit the wall. With no control of his body left Torrhen toppled over the edge and plummeted to the ground below. As the ground raced to meet him the last thing Torrhen Karstark heard was the anguished screaming of his little sister far off in the distance.

* * *

 **Poor Torrhen. So there's our first proper bit of action then.**

 **The events surrounding what's happening at Hornwood shall be concluded in the next chapter from Alys's point of view.**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** First of all, I am so sorry for keeping you all waiting for this update. I had a severe case of writers block that kept me back, and I was forced to rewrite the entire chapter as I did not like what I had initially done. But I am now finally able to get this story updated. I hope you can forgive me for being so slow with this.

I am still going to be getting chapters written slowly, but I do hope that I won't be as slow as I was before.

Anyway, here is chapter 6. A little warning for a very uncomfortable scene at the beginning of this chapter, as well as some smut later on.

And as always, I do not own GoT or ASoIaF, they belong to GRRM and HBO.

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

Alys Karstark

The horse was a gift from her father when she had her thirteenth nameday. It was a beautiful brown and white mare that cost her father quite a bit of gold, which she named Swift. She has had her for the last five years, and has loved her ever since her father got her. Swift was Alys's companion, and in a way her best friend. And right now she trusted Swift to help her escape the horrors happening behind her. Alys urged her horse to run as fast as she could. The fighting in and around Hornwood was getting worse. They had travelled there for her to get married to Daryn, but now that would not happen. Alys's brother Torrhen told her to ride away from there, telling six men to get her either back to Karhold or to White Harbour. They had fled a minute ago, but Alys felt that their flight began hours back. She kept her eyes on the road in front of her as she and her guard rode through the woods.

"This can't be happening, this can't be happening," she kept repeating to herself. As they rode Alys could not shake the feeling that they were being followed. She looked over her shoulder and saw the six guardsmen who were to protect her. Further behind them were about ten men, dressed the same as the men who her brother was fighting back at Hornwood. Alys's eyes widened with fear; her heart beat faster than before. She looked back in front of her and urged Swift to gallop as fast as possible.

For fifteen minute she rode on as her guard were cut down by the enemy. Three were picked off by archers, one after the other. She saw one of them go down when she looked over her shoulder. At that point she also saw an enemy thrust a spear into the back of another of her guards. One of her two remaining guards hacked his sword at the man, knocking him off of his horse. Alys turned back to concentrate on outriding her pursuers. They were persistent, not giving up on their chase. Alys decided to ride into the woods proper. She only had two guards left, and she felt that they would not last long. She shouted to them anyway to let them know what she was going to do. If she could lose her pursuers in the woods then she could get to safety. She urged Swift into the woods and began to weave past and around the trees, occasionally ducking to avoid any low branches while hoping her guardsmen would do the same and hoping the enemy would not be lucky. She heard the shouting of the men behind her as she rode ahead. She rode for one big tree with several low branches, ducking down to avoid the heavy branches. She looked behind her and saw one of her men riding straight into the branches and being knocked off having not ducked soon enough. The other man was nowhere to be seen. The men pursuing her did not give up even though two failed to duck low enough. One rode his horse straight into the tree itself after losing control, forcing another to careen into one of his fellows and forcing both to forget what they were riding towards. When they realised it was too late. Their horses continued to ride on without them as they were flung from their saddles. Alys laughed despite the situation she was in. She turned to look in front of her again and to her horror saw that one of her pursuers had gotten ahead of her and was now riding towards her. He was only several yards away from her. Alys panicked; she did not know what to do, how to get out of this situation. She froze with fear, and before she knew it she was falling from her horse.

Swift continued to ride on while Alys landed with a dull thud. Her whole left side felt stiff and sore, both with the fall and from being hit with by the man who rode towards her. She tried to get back up after lying on the ground for what seemed like forever, but as she made to stand she felt a boot kick her in the side. She grunted in pain as she landed on her side. She looked up and saw that she was surrounded by several men.

"Someone grab that bloody horse!" a man called out. Alys tried to see who spoke but she felt a hand pull her by her hair. She screamed in pain as she was yanked by the hair over to a fallen tree.

"Put the bitch over the trunk there," someone called out joyously. The men gathered around her began to laugh. Alys struggled as much as possible, but it was no use; her attackers were too strong. The men pinned her over the fallen trunk and began to tear her skirts. She still struggled, but the scum held her down, forcing her to stay over the trunk. She felt rough hands grab and squeeze her rear. She whimpered as a hand travelled down the back of her thigh.

"Stop squirming girl," a man said. "It'll be easier for everyone if you stop yer squirming." Some of them laughed while Alys began to shake with fear. She was paralysed; she knew what they were about to do but she did not know what to do herself. She whimpered as she felt a finger touch her between her legs and stroke her womanhood.

"You ever been fucked before?" a man asked. Alys shuddered at the man's words, but that only made him laugh. "Oh, a maid we 'ave here lads!" he called out.

"Well get out the way then," a deep voice boomed. "If she's a maid then she should get the biggest cock rammed into her first." Alys's trembling continued and she redoubled her efforts to escape, but the men just gripped her harder. After struggling for a few moments someone grabbed her by her hair and lifted her up. Alys screamed as the pain tore through her scalp.

"STOP IT! PLEASE JUST STOP IT!" she wailed. In the next moment a fist struck her on the side of her face. Alys felt her cheek split open from the force of the impact. Blood trickled from the cut and she was forced back over the trunk.

"Stupid whore," someone muttered. A pair of hands grabbed Alys around her waist and raise her body up slightly.

"Time to fuck you bloody," another said as Alys felt something hard and fleshy rub against her thigh.

"No," she moaned. "Please, no." Tears began to run down her face then as the fleshy hardness rubbed up her thigh. The men laughed as Alys trembled even more. She tried to wriggle free from them but it was no use. She jammed her eyes shut and waited for the inevitable pain.

Just as her attacker's length had reached her entrance there was a whooshing sound, followed immediately by the sound of flesh being torn open. The hands that held her waist let go of her and Alys felt herself drop as the man who had held her yelled out in pain. She looked over her shoulder and saw her would-be-rapers drawing their swords as a group of mounted men engaged them. It was a one-sided fight. Alys watched as the scum were mercilessly cut down by the mounted soldiers. The man who had nearly raped her was screaming as two more spears punched through his back and out of his chest; a man had just got his sword free of its scabbard as a mounted man took his head off at the neck; another began to run away only to be trampled into the ground by one of her rescuers. The slaughter was quick and brutal; none of the scum survived. The last man to die was the man who punched Alys's face. He was on his knees surrounded by spearheads levelled towards his upper chest. One of the mounted men dismounted his horse and drew his sword.

"Please Ser," the scum began. "Please…" He was cut off as the sword was thrust into his gut.

"You and your fellow cretins tried to defile a noblewoman," he snarled. "For that your life is forfeit." In the next instant the sword was drawn from the scum's gut and then swung overhead and sliced through his neck, parting the head from the body. When the last of the scum had died the mounted men turned to Alys. The one on foot approached her as he sheathed his sword. Alys looked at him, taking in his appearance. The man was quite fat, to the point that his plate armour seemed to strain against his bulk. When he removed his helmet he revealed a bald head and round face; the only hair on his head was a large moustache. His eyes were kind, and he gave Alys a warm smile. "Are you hurt my lady?" he asked as he offered his hand to her. Alys gratefully took his hand and the man helped her to her feet.

"Just this cut to my face Ser," she answered. "You and your men arrived just in time. If you were a moment later…" Alys trailed off as the realisation of what nearly happened to her sunk in. The man placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a firm squeeze.

"It's okay, you're safe now," he said. "I am Ser Wendel of House Manderly. My lord father sent me with many other knights, cavalrymen and men-at-arms to deal with what was happening on the Hornwood's lands." Alys looked at Ser Wendel with a confused look.

"You knew of what was happening?" she asked.

"The Lady of Hornwood is my lord father's cousin," he answered. "We had received a raven with a request for help some time ago. Trouble with a large band of bandits." Alys shook her head as Ser Wendel spoke.

"These aren't mere bandits," she said. Ser Wendel nodded at this. Just then a man in Manderly colours arrived on horseback, with another horse trailing behind. Alys looked at them and recognised the rider-less horse as Swift. She ran to her mount and wrapped her arms around her neck. "Thank you," she said to the man who guided her horse back.

"We should get to the castle soon Ser Wendel," one of the riders called out as Alys checked her skirts. They were torn at the back but not enough to fall off so she was still able to cover her dignity. With some help from Ser Wendel she mounted her horse.

"It's best if you stay with my men my lady," he said. "I will lead our forces to Hornwood and scour the curs from the lands." Alys looked at him as he spoke.

"I'm following you," she said. Before he could protest she quickly added, "My brother is over there fighting these fools, and I won't rest easy until I see him." Ser Wendel seemed to be unhappy by her declaration, but after a few moments he nodded his head, giving his consent.

"You shall stay with my men and watch from the safety of the woods," he said in a gentle voice.

Alys rode back with Ser Wendel's men as he organised his forces. She was worried that they would not get to the castle in time. It was during the ride back that she told him who she was and why she was at Hornwood. Ser Wendel seemed upset when Alys mentioned that Lady Hornwood and her family were killed. After she broke the news to him his resolve seemed to harden, and he commanded his men to assemble at the forest's edge. After a few minutes Alys and her guards rode to the trees, where she saw the castle looming over the dozens of men that were stood outside gathering for whatever reason that they were. As those enemy soldiers gathered Alys noticed Ser Wendel leading his men into battle. Her heart beat fast as the Manderly forces crashed into the enemy soldiers, running them down without mercy. Those men did not stand a chance. Alys smiled at the sight; to her it was justice for Daryn and his family. But as she looked up to the battlements of the castle her smile faltered. A lone figure stood by the battlements, and was then surrounded by several other men. Alys watched as they stood there for a short time, before the men who surrounded the lone figure moved as one. Then after another few moments she saw them fade from view as they stepped back, and then the lone man toppled over the battlements. It was as the man fell that Alys realised that it was Torrhen; even in the distance she recognised his features and his hair. Her heart stopped at the sight of her brother falling.

"TORRRRRRHEEEEENNNNNNN!" she screeched as the body of her brother plummeted to the ground. When the body hit the ground Alys sobbed.

"My lady," one of the knights guarding her said, but she ignored him and spurred Swift forward. The men called after her as she rode to her brother's body. She knew that they would follow her, but all she cared for was her brother. When she got there she got off of her horse and ran to Torrhen's body. She collapsed by his body, which was red with his blood.

"Torrhen, no, please no," she choked out as she shook his body, as if he were sleeping and she were trying to wake him up. But he was not sleeping; his eyes were wide open and unseeing, and that sight alone sent a shudder up Alys's spine. She felt a hand touch her shoulder and a voice speak to her, but Alys was numb to everything. She began to whimper as the reality sank in, and the whimpering turned to sobbing. And then Alys Karstark looked to the sky and wailed in grief over her brother's death.

* * *

Wendel Manderly

Wendel charged forward, his sword drawn. He slashed his sword down into a Bolton soldier, splitting the head in half from scalp to neck. He was angry, so very angry. Upon seeing the men outside the lands of his father's cousin he knew that they were Bolton men, and it angered him. Word came from Winterfell recently informing them of Lord Roose's murder by the hands of his bastard son, and it was clear that the safety of Lord Robb's wife was threatened as well. So when Wendel's father had received word from the Hornwoods about bandits on their lands he immediately knew that it was the Bolton Bastard. Wendel set out with his men and arrived just in time; Lord Karstark's daughter was about to be raped when he arrived. He and his men slaughtered the scum and after speaking with Lady Alys they set off to deliver justice to the enemy. That was where Wendel was now, killing Bolton men as he led the charge, roaring in fury as he hacked and slashed at soldiers. As he attacked the Bolton filth he saw several men on horseback ride out of the castle gates, and he knew that they were Ramsey Snow and his closest guardsmen.

"Bring one of them down!" he ordered the man on his right who was drawing back an arrow. The man loosed off his arrow, which flew skyward before falling to the earth and striking one of the riders in the back and sending him tumbling off of his horse. Wendel turned to three of his men. "Bring that filth to me, and keep him alive," he demanded. As those men rode off to capture the wounded man Wendel rode on through the gates of Hornwood.

The scene of devastation was horrific. Wendel saw dead bodies everywhere he looked; the castle's old inhabitants lay all over the place, Karstark soldiers were scattered all over the grounds of the courtyard, and some Bolton soldiers littered the ground too. It made Wendel sick. There were still some Bolton men within the courtyard, and upon seeing him they readied their swords. As soon as Wendel was joined by his own men the Bolton scum became very afraid. The fight lasted several minutes, but it ended with only eight enemy soldiers dead. Wendel was struck on his armour several times, but the steel plate held true. He killed four Bolton men, and then he duelled an officer whose swordsmanship was severely lacking. He sliced that man's hand off and then the rest surrendered. As the fighting died down Wendel dismounted his horse.

"Ser Wendel!" a knight called out to him as he caught his breath. He turned to see one of the men he left with Lady Alys approach him.

"I thought I commanded you to stay with Lady Alys?" he stated, his eyebrows raised. The man looked at him.

"Forgive me Ser, but the Lady Alys rode off to the walls during the skirmish," he answered. "We saw a body fall from the battlements, and the lady rode off to it. She has identified her brother Torrhen as the man who fell." Wendel sighed as he realised that he had heard a woman wailing minutes ago. He turned around to look at the gate as he saw some of his men ride up to him dragging a wounded man with an arrow stuck in his back.

"Mercy Sers, mercy," he begged. Wendel walked up to him and threw him into the dirt.

"Where has Snow gone off to?" Wendel yelled at him. The man whimpered as he squirmed on the ground.

"Back to the Dreadfort," he stammered. His comrades began to curse him.

"Shut it traitor."

"Fool."

"Arse face." Wendel glared at the prisoners.

"SHUT YOUR MOUTHS YOU FILTHY LITTLE WORMS!" he bellowed. The men then fell silent. After a moment he turned to his officers who had gathered around him. "You, send word back to my lord father at White Harbour, and tell him what has happened here," he said to one man who bowed his head and left to do as he was ordered. Wendel then faced the next officer. "You, I want the lands around the castle secured. Organise patrols to scour the lands and bring any lawbreakers here to face justice, no matter who they are. You, go to the rookery and send a raven to Winterfell telling Lord Stark what has happened here." Wendel then looked at another man as the others left to do their duty. "You, get on your horse and ride hard for Winterfell just in case there isn't a raven or it never gets there."

"Aye Ser Wendel," that man said before walking to his mount. Wendel then turned to face the prisoners.

"And someone put those Bolton traitors into the dungeons," he barked out as he stomped off to find a drink. "Lord Stark shall decide their fate."

* * *

Robb Stark

The letter lay on the table in front of him. He was seething in anger, his hands shaking with his pent up rage. Theon was standing by the doorway of Robb's solar, watching his friend with worry. Robb had been quiet for the last couple of minutes, the news of the letter troubling. After several minutes Robb took a deep breath to calm down before he turned to look at Theon.

"Call everyone to the great hall," he ordered in a voice that he hoped sounded like the tone his father would use. Theon left without a word, knowing that when Robb was angry it was best not to question him. The last time that Robb was so angry was the time when Sansa was nearly raped by that Frey knight; his fury got the better of him then, and he had laid into one of the other Freys that was in the group for some foolish comment that was muttered after Sansa's ordeal. Father had reprimanded him appropriately after the Freys had left, but Robb did not care. Back then he was furious at the men for how his sister had been treated. Looking back though Robb realised how rash he had been in attacking one of Lord Frey's sons. He had to retain control of himself now that he was the Lord of Winterfell.

After standing in the solar for several minutes Robb turned to the letter and picked it up. He then walked out of the door, closing it behind him and going to the great hall, a guardsman falling in step behind him. He walked with purpose, his face stern; Grey Wind padded up to him, grumbling as he sensed his master's cold anger. The guardsman behind Robb no doubt held back slightly from him now that his direwolf was with him. Soon Robb was walking into the great hall, where he took the lord's seat and sat down, waiting for everyone to be present. First to arrive were Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik, both walking up to stand before him. His mother soon turned up with Cassana alongside her, both women looking at him with concern. Cassana looked like she wanted to go to her husband and comfort him, but she stayed where she was beside Catelyn, standing close to where Robb sat. Little Rickon walked over to where their mother stood with Cassana, his direwolf Shaggydog trotting up to stand next to Grey Wind who was sat off to Robb's right. The hall began to fill with many other people then; senior guardsmen who had no other duties to see to, senior servants who would be required to attend any such gatherings, and any small folk who had nothing better to do but listen to whatever their liege lord was about to say. After a few minutes Theon entered the great hall.

"Everyone who needs to be here is here Robb," he said quietly when he was stood across from Ser Rodrik and the Maester. "What news was it?" Robb looked at his friend and then stood up. As he did the entire hall fell silent, everyone ready to listen to Robb's words. Upon seeing the stern look that Robb had Theon stepped back slightly.

"This morning I have received word from the castle at Hornwood," Robb began. "The raven was sent by Ser Wendel Manderly, the second son of Lord Wyman. House Hornwood has been massacred." At that declaration people gasped. "Lord Hornwood along with his lady wife and their son were murdered by Ramsey Snow and his men. The inhabitants of the castle I have been told were also put to the sword. Also among the dead are many men of House Karstark led by Lord Karstark's son Torrhen, who himself had been killed by Snow's men. They were escorting Lady Alys Karstark who was to marry Lord Hornwood's son Daryn. Lady Alys survived the attack by the Bolton men led by Ramsey, and the Bastard of the Dreadfort managed to escape. But Ser Wendel had learned from the prisoners that he took that the craven has retreated to the Dreadfort." There was murmuring from the gathered crowd. Robb could tell that the people were worried.

"What do you intend to do milord?" someone called out from the back. Robb drew a deep breath before he continued.

"This act of aggression cannot be ignored. Ramsey Snow has claimed responsibility for the destruction of several villages across the North, and has now attacked a castle and its ruling family. The destruction of a noble House cannot go unanswered. Ramsey Snow has broken the King's Peace, and for his crimes his life is forfeit. Maester Luwin, send out ravens to all the lords of the North. I call upon them to raise their banners and descend upon the Dreadfort." The Maester bowed to Robb as he turned to face Ser Rodrik. "Ser Rodrik, I leave you as Castellan until my return. Guard Winterfell and my family," he commanded. Ser Rodrik bowed his head. "I shall stay here for two more days before I march with men to bring justice upon Ramsey Snow and his accomplices for their crimes. I call upon all able bodied men to take up arms if they've the skill and the courage to see justice done. Otherwise you may return to your duties and your families. We may be in spring, and summer may well be returning to the land, but winter is coming, and we cannot let the work go undone." With that the people began to disperse from the great hall, while Robb sat back down.

When the hall emptied Robb found himself with Theon, Cassana and his mother stood before him. The three of them looked at him worriedly. He turned to Theon first. The Iron Islander would normally be trying to make a jape to lighten the mood, but looking at Robb now he remained quiet. Theon stood still, waiting for Robb's command.

"Theon, I want you to oversee the preparations for when we march in two days' time," he said. Over the last year Theon has taken more responsibility in regards to the handling of his duties, so Robb could trust him to do as he asked of him.

"Very well Robb," Theon said. He stepped away and headed off to do as he was commanded. Robb then turned to his mother.

"With me away Rickon will be the Stark in Winterfell," he told Catelyn. "I hate having to put such responsibility on his shoulders at his age, but I need you to counsel him as you have counselled me in the past. Help the Maester to guide him in ruling Winterfell in my name. If all goes well I should be back within a few weeks." His mother looked sceptical at that last part but otherwise said nothing.

"Don't put yourself in too much danger," was all Catelyn said to him before she too walked out of the hall, leaving Robb with his wife. Cassana looked very worried.

"Robb," she said, taking a step closer to him. Robb stood up from the seat and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

"I have to do this," he said. "I can't risk him attacking another castle and slaughtering another House, not while we have him cornered. I won't rest until I have put his head on a spike." Cassana put her arms around Robb.

"I wish you wouldn't leave me here," she whispered, her voice full of fear. Robb closed his eyes and held her tighter. He knew that she was afraid, even if she did not show it.

"Believe me, I wish I could stay," he said. "But I must do my duty for the people of the North. Snow has raped and murdered far too many people, and he has gone unpunished for too long. As Lord of Winterfell I have to go and do this, to keep the people safe as much as to stop the lords from grumbling." Cassana gave a half-hearted chuckle as Robb pulled away from her embrace. He looked into her blue eyes, those blue pools that he has loved for so long. They stared at one another for a time before Robb leant down to kiss Cassana on her cheek. Cassana however turned to kiss him properly, her sweet lips working against his own mouth. They broke the kiss after a few moments.

"I know you have to do your duty," she said, sounding sad. She looked up at him again and bit her trembling lip. "But as your wife I demand that you do your duty by me," she said as she trailed her hand up to Robb's face and cupped his cheek. Robb gave her a small smile before kissing her quickly. When he broke the kiss he took her arm and led her to their room.

They had barely gotten through the door to their room before Cassana threw herself at Robb, wrapping her arms around him and smothering him with kisses. Robb closed the door and kissed back furiously, his hands going to her hips. They kissed each other frantically for a good while before Robb pulled away to make sure he had closed the door properly. Once he did that he began to take his clothes off while watching Cassana do the same. Her dress came off quickly, the skirts and blouse falling off with practiced ease leaving only the shift over her body. Robb pulled off his doublet, then his undershirt before yanking his trousers down to his shins. He unlaced his boots before kicking them off along with his trousers and then approached Cassana, who left her shift on.

"Rip it off," she said as Robb pulled her to him.

"Are you sure Cass?" he asked her, not wanting to damage her clothing. She smirked as she looked up at him.

"I have plenty," she said with a mischievous tone. Robb then kissed her on the neck and then spun her around so that her back was to him. He grabbed the shift and then tore it along the back, the material tearing loudly, and Cassana giggled as her ruined shift fell off of her frame. Robb then grabbed one of her breasts and squeezed her gently, making her moan as he led her to their bed. He placed a kiss on the side of her neck before lifting her up and putting her onto the bed. Cassana spread her legs open as Robb climbed on, and in the next instant he pushed himself into her, his hard manhood entering her sheath fully. He looked down at Cassana as she moaned at his presence. He put one hand on her left breast while supporting his weight with his other hand. He began to slowly thrust into her, enjoying the feeling of her around his length. She was wet with arousal, moaning lowly with each gentle thrust. As Robb moved he felt Cassana begin to rock her hips against him. He loved the feeling of her sheath moving on his manhood. After several minutes of gentle thrusts Robb began to move at a faster rate, thrusting quicker. He trailed his hand from her breast to her side, sliding his hand up and down her body. Cassana giggled at the feeling of his fingers grazing her skin. He then lowered himself down over her body and kissed her full on the lips, his tongue pressing into her open mouth. Their tongues danced inside their mouths as Robb stopped his thrusting. When they broke their kissing Robb began to thrust again, moving his hips fast and thrusting hard into Cassana's sheath.

"Cass," Robb breathed as he felt her tighten around him. Cassana gasped and moaned with his movements. He knew that he was coming close to his end, but he willed himself to hold on until he had brought her to her own end first. He thrust hard and deep, pounding into her and making her moan loudly.

"Oh gods Robb," Cassana yelled out as she squeezed around him. In the next moment Robb felt his manhood soaked with his wife's arousal as she yelled out in blissful pleasure. In that same instant he felt his manhood twitch and then he felt his seed explode from his length, filling Cassana's sheath. They both stopped their movements and just lay there on the bed, panting away. Once their breathing slowed down to a regular rhythm Robb pulled out from Cassana slowly before lying down beside her, stroking his hand up and down her belly.

Robb lay beside his beautiful wife for a long time, the two of them just staring at each other, smiling to themselves. All thoughts from earlier had been pushed to the back of his mind. He had two days to prepare for the march, but for now he just wanted to be with his wife. Robb looked at her and shifted closer to her before leaning over to kiss Cassana. He felt her smile as he pecked her on the cheek.

"We should probably get changed for dinner," Robb said, resulting in Cassana huffing. He chuckled as he sat up and began to move from the bed. As he moved he felt Cassana's hand grab him by the arm. He looked at her and saw her shake her head slightly.

"Not just yet please," she said softly. "Let us stay for a while longer." Robb sighed as he looked away from her. He was about to move when she spoke again. "Give me your hand." He looked back at her with a confused look and after a moment did as he was asked. Cassana took his hand in her's and placed it upon her belly. Robb's eyes travelled over her naked body, looking at her full breasts that he loved grasping and squeezing, her long slender legs that he loved sliding his hands along, her sweet womanhood that he loved being inside of, and her beautiful face that always made him smile. As he looked over her body Cassana spoke once more. "If you are gone for many weeks, then you will come back to hopefully see me looking fatter around my belly," she simply said with a smile that reached her eyes. It took Robb a minute to figure out what she meant, but when he did realise his eyes went wide with shock.

"What?" he managed in a small voice. Cassana's smile grew wider still.

"I have been to see Maester Luwin this morning," she explained as Robb leant in closer. "It is still too early to be certain, but I have not had my moon blood recently, and I have felt sick a few times after we have awoken over the last three weeks or so. Nothing proven by the good Maester yet, but I'm positive that our constant bedtime sessions have borne fruit." Robb just lay over Cassana for a few more moments. She was about to speak again when he silenced her with a quick kiss. Their lips locked briefly, and when they parted Robb was smiling himself, feeling incredible.

"You're pregnant?" he stammered. Cassana laughed at his voice.

"Don't shout it from the tallest tower of Winterfell yet Robb," she said. Robb laughed as he looked into her eyes. In that moment he felt pure love for this wonderful woman. He moved his hand from her belly and cupped her cheek. He gazed into her blue orbs before pressing his lips against her own. They kissed each other slowly, their love and passion igniting as Robb soon rolled onto his back, pulling Cassana on top of him. She shrieked with laughter as she straddled her husband.

"I love you Cass," he said to her as she lay on top of him, her face barely inches away from his own. She looked down at him with a blank expression that was soon replaced with a loving smile that made Robb smile wider himself.

"And I love you Robb," she said before giving him a brief kiss. "Now we should probably get ready for dinner," she said as she began to move, but Robb pulled her back down on top of her, her breasts pressed into his chest.

"What's the rush?" he asked coyly. "We have plenty of time." At that Cassana laughed before she sat up and moved herself so that her entrance was over Robb's manhood. She lowered herself onto him and soon was riding Robb hard as they both looked into each other's eyes. Only when they were done did they get dressed and head down to the hall to have their dinner, and for the rest of the night Robb had a smile on his face.

Unfortunately for Robb the two days passed by far too quickly. Each day was spent gathering men and arms, horses and carriages and organising supplies such as food and extra clothing as well as medicines and other essential supplies. Robb spent much time with his family knowing that he would be away for an awfully long time. He made sure to spend time with Rickon to make sure he knew what he was doing. The morning of Robb's departure finally came, and Robb reluctantly left his bed to get dressed. Cassana had helped him into his armour after she had bathed. Once his armour was on Cassana got herself dressed, and it was only when she was dressed that he left his room, arm in arm with Cassana. He broke his fast with his wife, mother and youngest brother before he left for the courtyard, where Theon was stood waiting. They both wore steel plate armour over their bodies, protecting their torsos, legs and upper arms, but while Theon wore ringmail under his armour with boiled leather gauntlets Robb had steel plated gauntlets and boots, his own shirt of ringmail beneath his armour and a wolf's head helmet which he carried under his left arm. This helm had been a gift from King Robert on his wedding to Cassana. Both men were also armed differently from each other; Theon had a longsword on his hip along with his bow and quiver of arrows, while Robb had a bastard sword on his hip, and over his back was the Stark family's ancestral weapon, Ice. The greatsword was heavy on Robb's back, but being made of Valyrian steel it was lighter than other greatswords.

"Everything is set Robb," Theon said as Robb approached him.

"We all ready to march?" he asked.

"Aye," Theon replied with a savage grin, no doubt eager for a fight. As Theon turned away Robb turned to look at his family, who had just gathered to see him off. Robb knelt before Rickon and put a hand on his shoulder.

"While I'm gone you are Lord of Winterfell Rickon," he told his brother. "There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, just like father always tells us. Listen to mother, and Ser Rodrik and the Maester, for they will help you to rule in my absence." Rickon nodded his head. Robb then stood up and walked to his mother. "I'll come back mother. I promise," he said. Catelyn nodded her head before she stepped forward to embrace him.

"Just like all of the men in my life," she said. "First my father the few times he rode off to fight, and then your father whenever he had to go and fight, and now you my boy. You may be a man now, but you'll always be my little boy Robb." Robb could sense the worry in her voice.

"Calm yourself mother," he said soothingly. "I'll return to you all, I promise you." He placed a kiss on his mother's forehead and then he stood in front of his wife. He put his finger beneath her chin and lifted her head to look into her eyes. "Do not fret for me Cass," he said to her. "I'll see you soon." With that Cassana nodded her head before leaning up to kiss him. Robb returned the kiss, wrapping an arm around her back. Cassana put her hands on Robb's armoured chest so as not to be crushed into him. They parted their lips and gazed at one another for a brief time.

"Look after yourself my love," she said. Robb rested his head against her's for a moment, and then he stepped back from her. "I love you," she said quietly.

"And I you," he murmured before stepping back further and looking at all of his family. "I will see you all soon," he told them once more. With that he turned around and strode purposefully to his horse. He handed his helm to a soldier stood nearby and then mounted his horse. The soldier handed his helm back to him, and he thanked him as he took it. He looked at his family one more time; his mother had a tear running down her face, but other than that she looked calm; Rickon stood proudly in front of their mother, a slight smile on his face as he looked up to his elder brother; Cassana gave Robb a nod of encouragement, resting one of her hands on her flat belly. She also gave him a smile which he returned. Grey Wind padded over to him, whining at him. "We won't be away forever Grey Wind," he said to his direwolf. He was certain that the beast would miss Cassana. He looked up to his family and nodded to them. "Be safe, all of you," he said to them. With those words spoken he turned his horse to face the gate and rode forwards, calling out to his men to march, an order that was echoed by the various officers. As he rode out of Winterfell, with Grey Wind racing ahead of him, Robb prayed to the old gods to look after his family, and he also prayed that his wife and unborn child would be safe. He hoped that when he returned home he would find Cassana showing the more obvious signs of pregnancy.

Robb rode through the gates of his home and led his men to the Dreadfort, where Ramsey Snow waited. With a grim determination he rode on, to bring justice upon the Bastard of the Dreadfort, and to bring peace to the North. He rode on, knowing that when he returns to Winterfell that he will be able to look forward to becoming a father.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:** We're back in King's Landing for this chapter, and it's time for the Hand's Tourney. In case anyone is wondering I have yet to decide on who Silas will be getting romantically involved with although some may think that my mind is already made up with how Silas is interacting with a character in this chapter. I may pursue this pairing, I may not, we shall see.

Anyway this is quite a long chapter, and I hope you enjoy it. It was fun for me to write this chapter, and I hope it'll be fun for you all to read.

As ever, I do not own GoT or ASoIaF, they belong to GRRM and HBO.

* * *

 **Chapter Seven**

Silas Baratheon

It was the morning of the Hand's Tourney, and Silas was walking down to the stables where his horse was kept. He was looking forward to the melee which would be held tomorrow, but the 'main event', the joust, was being held today. Silas had awoken just before dawn, and had bathed before having his breakfast with his mother and father. Myrcella had joined them just after Silas arrived, along with Tommen. Joffrey was nowhere to be found, and as Cersei was debating whether or not to send a servant to go and look for him a maid came running in telling them that Joffrey had been sick this morning and was not feeling well enough to go and see the tourney. Silas suppressed a laugh as his father decided that Joffrey shall remain in his quarters, and sent word for Pycelle to check on him. Silas of course knew that this would happen after hiring someone to put a very small dose of a poison that would not be detected in his brother's cup of water. The poison in question was non-lethal in small doses, and would leave its victims sick so long as the victim is not exposed to it on a regular basis. The last time Silas did that to Joffrey was three years ago at Cassana's nameday tourney; Joffrey was insulting Robb during the whole of the first day, and Silas had had enough of his rudeness, so took matters into his own hands. It was good fortune that he had used a poison that would not be detected easily, and Pycelle only failed to realise it because Silas told him that Joffrey had over indulged in the food that had been served at the feast. After the announcement that Joffrey would not attend the tourney Silas finished his breakfast before going back to his rooms and changing into more formal attire; he pulled on his black leather trousers and the black riding boots that he usually wore before shrugging on his black and gold doublet. Once his clothes were on he grabbed his hunting knife which his father had given him after his coming of age hunt when he turned fourteen. He secured it to his belt before going to retrieve his sword, which he would also take with him. His mother tried to make him leave it behind, but he would never leave the Red Keep without his blade. He may have the Kingsguard and his sworn shield, but he always felt safer with his sword on his hip. Once he had armed himself Silas had left his rooms and gone to the stables.

As he approached the stables Silas saw Summer wander over to him, spooking a couple of horses that were not yet used to his presence. The direwolf stopped next to him and nudged his snout into Silas's arm.

"Hello boy," Silas said to the wolf as he petted him. Summer was quite big, and height wise came up to just below Silas's shoulder. Bran came running out of the stables, panting as he came to a halt.

"My prince," he said formally, bowing to him. Silas laughed.

"No need for formalities Bran, how many times must I say it?" he asked. At that point Ser Lukas walked out, leading two horses.

"That'll be my influence Silas," he stated with a grin. "Bran takes his lessons to heart, especially the ones about formality." Silas looked down to the young Stark and gave him a small smile.

"I suppose you are being overworked by my sworn shield then?" he asked. Bran just smiled.

"It's hard work and can be quite painful if I'm not careful, but I'm content with this Silas," he answered. Silas smiled at him before ruffling his hair. Bran huffed at having his hair ruffled, but that only made Silas laugh.

"The lads have saddled your horse Silas," Lukas said when Silas looked up at him. Silas nodded his head gratefully before walking into the stables. Two stable boys stepped away from the horse, bowing to Silas as he walked over to them. He thanked the two of them before sending them off with a silver stag each.

"Hey boy, did you miss me?" he asked his mount, who just neighed at him. Silas climbed onto the saddle and then grabbed hold of the reins. He urged the horse out of the stables and into the open, where he saw both Bran and Lukas already on their own horses, with Summer not too far away. "Shall we?" Silas asked as he led the way to the grounds where the tourney would be held.

On the ride to the tourney grounds Silas found himself riding with his father, who sat astride his massive warhorse, as well as Myrcella and Tommen, who were both riding ponies. Their mother was being carried to the tourney in a litter, which Silas never liked as he sees travelling in such a manner as far too pompous. After riding for ten minutes with their guard detail they met up with Sansa and Arya, who were both riding their own ponies. The Stark girls were being escorted by Jon as well as several Stark guardsmen. The two groups greeted each other before continuing on to the grounds.

"Where's your father today?" Robert asked them. It was Sansa who answered him, turning to look over her shoulder.

"My lord father has important work to see to your grace," she said. "He said that he will come to watch the events tomorrow." With that explanation given Robert nodded his head and looked towards the grounds. Silas cantered his horse closer to Sansa. Once there he cleared his throat to gain her attention. Sansa looked his way and smiled widely.

"So is this your first tourney to watch then Sansa?" he asked her. Sansa nodded her head.

"It is Silas," she said. The old Sansa would have addressed him as 'my prince', but it seems that over the last few years Sansa has begun to change from a stiff lipped young girl to a friendlier, more caring young lady who knew when to observe proper protocol and when to be informal. "I was meant to travel down here for your sister Cassana's nameday tourney just over three years ago, but I never made the trip." Silas remembered that time, when Robb had told him that Sansa was meant to go with him but had decided not to make the journey.

"What changed your mind?" he asked her. At that Sansa looked away from him. Silas noticed that Sansa's face had gone cold, as if remembering a foul memory. She was silent for a long time, and did not speak until Silas had begun to think that she was not going to answer.

"Something unpleasant had taken place, and I could not travel down from Winterfell," was all she said to him. Silas felt a shiver run up his spine, and could not help but think back to when they had passed by the Twins while coming back from the North. When they had travelled past the seat of House Frey Sansa had become extremely uncomfortable, and kept her siblings and some extra guards close to her. It was almost as if she were afraid of the Freys. As soon as Sansa had finished talking Arya turned to look at Silas.

"Why aren't you taking part in the joust Silas?" she asked him. Silas grinned at her, and from the corner of his eye he saw that Sansa had smiled a bit more as well.

"The joust is not my favourite event," he said truthfully. "I have never found jousting to be fun. For me, I much prefer to fight on foot, not on horseback. Also I've always preferred the melee, it's much more fun." Arya frowned at him.

"But the joust sounds like fun," she said, making Silas laugh.

"I bet you think that because it means riding a horse as fast as possible while trying to unhorse your opponent," he stated. Arya made a noise that sounded as if she were agreeing with him. After that the group looked ahead as they rode on to the grounds.

Once they reached the tourney grounds and dismounted their horses Silas and his companions made their way to the stands. Robert and Cersei walked to the royal box, with Ser Barristan beside them as well as two of the other Kingsguard knights. Ser Meryn was staying at the Red Keep to watch over Joffrey, while the other three knights would take part in the joust. Silas walked up to the seat where he would sit, and then he dismissed Lukas so he could prepare for the joust. Myrcella and Tommen sat beside each other on the chairs to their mother's left, while Silas took his seat on his father's right. Sansa and Arya had been invited by Silas to sit with his family, so they both sat on the guest seats that Silas had ordered to be set up for them. He smirked as he watched his mother stare wide eyed at the girls as they walked up with their direwolves following close behind them. Once they were seated Jon bowed to Robert before standing down from the stand to be beside the other men who were part of the guard detail. As Silas got himself comfortable Lady and Nymeria wandered over to him and began to whine at him.

"Oh gods be good," he muttered with a laugh as he leant over to pet them. Sansa laughed at her direwolf's antics, as did Arya.

"Come now Lady," Sansa said in a commanding voice. "Leave Prince Silas be." Lady reluctantly wandered back to her mistress.

"Nymeria, come here girl," Arya said. Nymeria looked over her shoulder before looking back to Silas and resting her head on his lap. Silas laughed at the stern look that Arya shot her companion. "Nymeria! Heel!" Arya snapped. The direwolf just looked up at Silas as if to tell him not to send her back to her mistress.

"Go on Nymeria," he said. "Go back to Arya." With the finality in his voice Nymeria huffed as she padded over to Arya, who gently grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and looked back to Silas and mouthed a quick 'thank you' to him. Silas smiled at her and nodded his head as the first competitors lined up to wait to begin the joust.

Silas leant forward in his seat so that he could easily talk with Sansa and Arya. As he did he saw the six knights that were gathered in front of the royal box. Three were unknown to him, so he paid them no heed, but the other three were known to him. First was his own sworn shield, Ser Lukas. Lukas wore his black and gold armour, with a plain helm and no sigil. The second knight was Beric Dondarrion, the Lord of Blackhaven in the Stormlands. The castle of Blackhaven was located in the Dornish Marches, near the Boneway; an ancient pass to Dorne that the various marcher lords have guarded for centuries before the War of Conquest by the Targaryens. The sigil of his House, the forked purple lightning bolt on black field speckled with four-pointed white stars, was displayed on his armour and his cloak. The third knight known to Silas was the Knight of Flowers, Ser Loras Tyrell. He sat astride his horse, holding himself with confidence in his brilliant shining armour. Silas shook his head slightly at Ser Loras's confidence, which to him conveyed a sense of arrogance.

"Who are these knights Silas?" Sansa asked him quietly. "I recognise Ser Lukas, but who are the other five?" Silas was about to answer when his father stood up from his seat.

"WE'VE BEEN SITTING HERE FOR DAYS! GET ON WITH THE BLOODY JOUST BEFORE I PISS MYSELF!" King Robert roared. Silas suppressed a smirk as numerous people laughed. He looked over his shoulder to see that his mother was not amused by her husband's outburst. Turning back around to face the competitors he looked at Sansa and cleared his throat.

"Three of the knights are unknown to me Sansa," he said. "But I can tell you about the other two. That one there is Lord Beric Dondarrion, the Lord of Blackhaven. He is a good warrior, like most from the Stormlands, but not the best at the joust. Maybe this time he shall do well. The other I know is that one in the shining armour, Ser Loras." He took a deep breath as he shuffled himself closer to Sansa. "Loras Tyrell is the third son of Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden. He is a skilled warrior, and is quite good at the joust, but he has cheated in the past." Sansa looked round sharply at him.

"How has he cheated?" she asked him.

"Once, a few years ago he switched horses before a semi-final. He rode a mare that was in heat to distract his opponent's horse, and so he won unfairly." Sansa looked horrified at Silas's explanation.

"There is no honour in such tricks," she said with a hint of disgust in her voice.

"True enough Sansa," Silas replied. "But quite a lot of gold was involved."

"Do I wish to know how much?" she asked as she looked back to the competitors.

"Probably not," he stated as four more knights rode their horses to present themselves to the royal box. When the knights were assembled the herald announced the ten men who were to start the joust. Silas watched as each man urged his horse forwards when their names were called out. First was Ser Loras, then Lord Beric, then Lukas. Then the others were announced.

"… Ser Hobber Redwyne of the Arbor, and his twin brother Ser Horas Redwyne of the Arbor…" The two identical knights urged their mounts forward and bowed to the King. "… Ser Patrek Mallister of Seaguard…" The third knight that Silas did not know rode forward and bowed. "… Ser Aron Santagar, master-at-arms of the Red Keep…" Silas saw the Dornishman who had helped to train him as a youth urge his horse forward and bow. "… Ser Andar Royce, Heir to Runestone…" Bronze Yohn Royce's eldest son went forward and bowed. "… Lord Bryce Caron, Lord of Nightsong…" The only living member of House Caron bowed after urging his horse forward. "… and Ser Perwyn Frey of the Twins." The tenth and last knight urged his horse forward. As Ser Perwyn bowed to his father Silas noticed that Sansa was glaring at him. He thought about asking about her attitude towards the Freys, but decided against it. The herald finished speaking and then the knights took their positions, five on one end of the field and the other five on the opposite end. After they were in position with their lances levelled the horns sounded, and then the field was filled with the sound of ten sets of hooves pounding into the ground as the ten competitors rode against each other. Silas watched as all ten lances struck true and broke against the shields that they hit, with all ten riders still atop their horses. The crowd cheered with delight; such a spectacle was considered a good omen for the tourney.

"That was incredible," Myrcella said from the other side of the box. Silas smiled at his sister's enthusiasm. The knights organised themselves again before taking new lances. They charged again, and this time three knights were unhorsed; Ser Hobber fell along with Ser Patrek, and Ser Aron fell from his horse after trying not to fall from his own mount. Silas chuckled while Tommen laughed at Ser Aron's poor luck.

For the rest of the day the joust goes on as Silas expects it to. Many take part in the joust, with plenty of knights and lords trying to make a name for themselves. Lord Beric earns much glory for himself by unhorsing many knights, including Ser Andar in one bout, before a hedge knight disgraces himself by killing Lord Beric's horse. Beric is given the hedge knight's horse and continues to unhorse many until he is defeated by Thoros of Myr. Jory Cassel did quite well too, better than his two fellow guardsmen who are unhorsed in their first bouts. Jory's first opponent was Ser Horas, who he unhorsed with ease. He then faced and defeated two more men before he goes up against Ser Perwyn Frey, who gives him quite a challenge. After four tilts Jory succeeds in sending Ser Perwyn flying from his mount, much to Sansa's delight. Sansa had clapped her hands eagerly when Ser Perwyn fell into the dirt. Arya had jumped up and cheered Jory on after that victory. He had a good run until he came up against Lothor Brune, who defeats him after their fifth tilt by hitting him in his shoulder and knocking him off of his horse. Sansa and Arya both offered him kind words despite his defeat. Other knights came and went, some going on to face other opponents while others were defeated. But then came the one man that Silas despises more than any other.

"Ser Gregor Clegane," the herald announced, and a giant of a man rode into view.

"Whoa," Arya muttered as she saw the beast of a man before them. Silas noticed that Sansa had a small shudder.

"That was my first reaction when my mother introduced me to him when I was a boy," he told her. Sansa looked at him with a concerned look in her eye.

"Who is he?" she asked. Silas sighed before answering.

"The Mountain that Rides," he said, and Sansa's eyes widened with understanding. "A brutal man with a penchant for killing and raping. He's my grandfather's mad dog." Arya leaned over Sansa's lap so she could see Silas clearly.

"That's the Mountain? The same man who…" she trailed off. Silas looked into her grey eyes and saw a hint of fear behind those eyes. He nodded his head, silently answering her unfinished question. This was the man who had murdered Prince Aegon by smashing his skull against a wall before he raped and murdered the Dornish Princess Elia Martel. Silas has hated that man since he was old enough to understand what he had done. As the Mountain bowed to the King another knight rode up.

"Ser Derrik of the Dornish Marches," came the herald's loud voice. The knight bowed as well, and then he and the Mountain took up their positions on either end of the field. Silas observed Ser Derrik; the young man wore chainmail with a hauberk over it, greaves, gauntlets, a half helm with a visor, and a poorly fitted gorget. Silas knew that if the Mountain saw that weakness then he would exploit it. Both men took their lances and spurred their mounts when the horns sounded. The horses thundered towards each other, and both knights passed each other, hitting their opponent's shield but not unhorsing them. They got to the opposite end of the field and turned to face each other. Silas leaned closer and heard Sansa breathing hard. She must have been terrified for Ser Derrik the way she was breathing. Silas watched as the two knights rode towards each other again, their lances levelled to hit the shield of the other. As he watched this Silas saw the Mountain's lance rise a little, and he knew exactly what was going to happen. _You honourless bastard_ , he thought as the Mountain's lance hit Ser Derrik in the throat. The point of the lance broke as it hit the young man right in the middle of his throat, tearing the flesh and embedding itself in his windpipe. Silas heard Sansa give a small gasp as Ser Derrik dropped to the ground, despite hearing other ladies and common women scream in horror. He watched as the young knight coughed up his blood, the red fluid gushing out of his mouth and opened throat. After a few long agonising moments he was dead. Several men ran to the knight's prone form and began to drag him away. While they saw to their task the Mountain rode off the field; no one cheered him, but he would still compete. Silas knew that the Mountain had deliberately killed the young knight, as it was Gregor's nature to kill. He shook his head in disgust before looking at the Stark girls. Sansa looked on with a stern face, but Arya had paled at the sight of so much blood.

The joust continued after that incident, with more knights riding and unhorsing each other until only four were left; Ser Loras, Ser Arys of the Kingsguard, the Mountain, and Lukas. They would compete tomorrow for the semi-finals and then the final joust. Once the final joust was held then the two other events would take place; the archery competition and the melee. As the sun began to set the court made their way to where the feast would be held by the riverside. Six massive aurochs had been roasting for the last few hours on wooden spits, being turned slowly while the kitchen boys basted them with butter and herbs until the meat crackled and spit. Strawberries, freshly baked bread and more were piled high on the tables that were set up outside the pavilions. Serving girls carried carafes filled with Dornish Red and Arbor Gold, filling wine cups when needed. Silas sat at the main table on his father's right, helping himself to several large pieces of auroch meat and some of the fresh bread. To his father's left sat Silas's mother, who had Myrcella sat next to her to talk with. Next to her was Tommen, who was busy stuffing his face while listening to Cersei and Myrcella's conversation. On Silas's right was Arya, who was eating her food slowly. Sansa sat beside her, engaged in conversation with Tyrion, who had been watching the joust from the other end of the stand to where the royal box was. Sansa laughed at one of Tyrion's japes as she fed a large chunk of meat to Lady. Nymeria whimpered at Arya, nudging her thigh as her mistress rolled her eyes.

"Big tough as nails beast my arse," Arya muttered quietly as she took some meat from her plate and gave it to her direwolf. Nymeria munched away gratefully as Arya hesitantly reached for more meat. After a moment she took a small piece. Silas smirked as he watched her put the meat onto her plate. For the next few minutes Arya ate her food quietly, looking thoughtful as she chewed the meat.

The silence continued for some time until Silas decided that he had had enough of it. Sansa and Tyrion were chatting away like two old friends, Robert stuffed food into his mouth and washed it down with wine, and Cersei and Myrcella conversed with each other while little Tommen just ate his fill. All the while Arya was quiet, looking like she did not want to be there just now.

"You're far too quiet tonight Arya," Silas said, making her jump slightly. Arya looked at him and gave a weak smile. She swallowed her mouthful before she spoke.

"I'm just not at all hungry," she said quickly. Silas looked at her and realised that she was holding something back. He took a long sip of his cup of Arbor Gold before leaning over to Arya.

"You looked deathly pale earlier today during the joust," he stated. "Right when the Mountain killed that knight."

"Ser Derrik," she cut in. "His name was Derrik, a knight from the Dornish Marches."

"Yes, he was," Silas slowly replied, not sure where his friend was going with this. She turned to face him and Silas noticed her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She blinked her eyes rapidly and took a deep breath.

"I knew it was possible for a man to die at the joust. My father always told me that these things happen. But to actually see it happen…" she trailed off. She looked down at her plate briefly before looking up at him. "That man looked no older than Robb, and now he will never be remembered. He'll just be another poor fool who had the misfortune of going up against the Mountain. His name will be forgotten in a few months' time, and in ten years' time it'll be like he never existed at all." Arya just shook her head in dismay. "How do people accept that?" Silas had no answer ready for that. He did not expect Arya of all people to catch him off guard with such an insightful comment. _Gods has she grown up a bit_ , he thought to himself. He leant back in his chair and drew a deep breath which he then slowly released. After a quiet moment he put his hand on Arya's shoulder. He has known her for many years, and so knows how to be when around her compared to with other ladies. Where other young ladies want to do needle work, Arya wants to practice swordplay; where they wanted to sing songs of knights and maids, Arya wanted to belt out rowdy tavern songs; where they howled in tears whenever dirt got onto their dresses, Arya howled with laughter whenever she rolled in the mud. So Silas rested his hand on Arya's shoulder instead of her hand and gave her a gentle shake rather than a gentle squeeze. "Sorry Silas," she said after a moment. "It's just that… I just don't understand the bloody south at all." Silas smiled at that.

"I know what you mean," he said. "I've spent so much time travelling around the Seven Kingdoms. I've never set foot in Dorne or the Iron Islands because of the bad blood between us and them, but I've seen the beauty of Highgarden and the magnificence of the Eyrie, the splendour of Casterly Rock and the robustness of Storms End. I've drank your uncle Ser Edmure Tully under the table, and been put in my place by your great-uncle the Blackfish, who laughed at my attempts to knock him off of his horse." Arya laughed as Silas told her that, no doubt picturing in her head the image of Silas trying to unhorse Ser Brynden Tully. Silas grinned at her as she laughed. When she calmed down he continued. "I have overlooked the Vale of Arryn from the heights of the Eyrie while listening to Lord Jon Arryn regaling me with tales of our fathers' youth when the Targaryens still held the Iron Throne. I have sat beside my grandfather Lord Tywin Lannister as he discussed with me the finer points of ruling seven kingdoms whose bloody histories have seen them constantly at each other's throats, and we've debated on the various ways of trying to bring peace between these peoples." Arya looked at him with a serious look then. "And do you know what I have learned?" Arya sat up straight in her seat then as he took his hand away from her shoulder.

"Can't say that I do," she said. "What have you learned?" Silas remained quiet for a moment before he answered.

"It doesn't matter who we are," he said. "Stark, Tully, Lannister, Arryn, Tyrell, Martel, Greyjoy, Baratheon. We are all different, with our own histories and our own bannermen, but at the end of the day we are all a bunch of stubborn, obstinate men and women who will always try to improve our House's lot in life. It's the nature of the game of thrones; today the Houses of Stark and Tully are joined together through the marriage of your parents, but in a hundred years' time those Houses could become enemies over some small slight. My own grandfathers, both of them, were close friends in their own youth many years ago, and my paternal grandfather Lord Steffon was a cousin of the Mad King." Silas leaned in closer to Arya so that he could whisper in her ear and not draw his father's attention. "That makes my father kin to Prince Rhaegar, the man who took your aunt; the man my father killed at the Trident. Steffon Baratheon's grandfather Lord Lyonel the Laughing Storm rose up in rebellion when Prince Duncan Targaryen took another woman to wife instead of his daughter. Prince Duncan's father King Aegon the Fifth, also called the Unlikely, managed to settle the dispute by organising a trial by combat between the Laughing Storm and Ser Duncan the Tall, the hedge knight that he had squired for in his youth, who also served as the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard. I think we both know the outcome of that dispute." As Silas finished talking there was laughter all around as a pair of fools played some childish jape on one another. When the laughter died down Arya took a swig from her cup.

"So what are you saying then Silas?" she asked as she took the cup away from her mouth. Silas looked at her then and realised that her free hand was playing with her necklace. It was a small thing that he had not noticed until now. It was a silver chain with a small circular pendant attached to it. Upon the pendant were the sigils of both of her parents Houses; the direwolf of Stark and the trout of Tully. "That it matters not what alliances we make now, for in the future we will be fighting each other?" Arya asked, drawing Silas back to their conversation. He shook his head slightly before he answered.

"If we do not understand and learn from the mistakes of those who come before, then we are doomed to repeat the brutal cycle of the game of thrones. If we don't learn from what has happened then we will be caught off guard and find ourselves at war, and then we will have thousands fall in battle and be forgotten like Ser Derrik will be after today. People will kill people all the time even after you and I are gone and buried. What we as nobles do with our responsibilities in our lives will determine if we will have thousands die in battle, or a handful die at a tourney." Arya opened her mouth to talk, but no sound escaped her. Silas's words to her had clearly made her stop and think. She looked away and watched the two fools as they played their japes and pranks. Silas waited until Arya was ready to talk rather than speak further. After a short time Arya stood up from her seat. She looked down at him and offered her hand.

"I realise that I have spent too much time thinking just now," she said. "So would you like to help me take my mind off of things and dance with me?" Silas just stared at her, dumbstruck at her question. After a moment he stood up and took her hand.

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with Arya Stark?" he japed. "First of all it's meant to be us men asking you girls to dance, and secondly I thought you don't dance?" Arya chuckled at Silas. It was a lovely sound that made him smile.

"Mother insisted that I learn some dances after my twelfth nameday," she said. "Father did not help, and neither did Robb or Jon." Silas laughed as he led her to where some other nobles of the court were dancing. "Anyway, shouldn't you be saying 'lords' instead of men and 'ladies' instead of girls?" Silas gave Arya a wide grin.

"Well I would've done, but you always whinge whenever someone calls you a lady," he said. Arya rolled her eyes.

"Oh shut up stupid," she said.

"Is that any way to speak to your Prince?" Silas said in a mock stern voice. Before Arya could answer the musicians changed the song and started a new tune, and then Silas took Arya in his hands and they both danced along to the song, laughing and japing away. For the rest of the night Arya was smiling and laughing, her mood improved from earlier.

* * *

Eddard Stark

Eddard looked out to the tourney grounds as he rode with his guard. Harwin had been unhorsed at the joust yesterday and returned to his duties beside him, and so was riding next to Eddard. The two of them stopped and dismounted their horses once they had reached the pavilion which Ser Barristan was stood outside of. The aged knight inclined his head to him as he walked up to him.

"My lord hand," he spoke. Eddard looked at the old knight and inclined his own head in return.

"Ser Barristan," he said. "Is this where Ser Derrik's body is?" The Lord Commander of Robert's Kingsguard nodded his head and led him inside. When they entered Eddard saw the Silent Sisters attending the lifeless body of the marcher knight. Eddard had heard from Lord Renly of what happened to the young knight. What did not surprise him was who his opponent had been. Gregor Clegane is known for his bloodlust, and has quite a kill count at tourneys. The dead knight laid out before Eddard was perhaps no older than Robb, and had red hair that was brighter than Sansa's hair. The wound on his neck had been stitched up by the Sisters, and Eddard could imagine the horror and pain that Ser Derrik would have gone through before he died. As he looked at the knight he remembered his conversation yesterday with Lord Stannis.

" _Not attending your tourney then my lord hand," Stannis stated as he entered Eddard's solar in the Tower of the Hand. He looked up from the letter that had arrived that day from Winterfell. Robb had written to him to inform him of problems that Lord Bolton's bastard son was behind. A report of an entire village being wiped out in the North was unsettling, but Eddard hoped that Robb would be able to deal with the matter effectively. For now there was nothing that he could do to help Robb; he just hoped that Catelyn, Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin would give sound guidance to him._

 _"Putting my name to it does not make it my tourney," Eddard said as he put the letter down. Stannis looked at the letter briefly, but if he wondered as to its contents he did not make it known._

 _"You asked to see me?" Stannis asked as he stood in front of Eddard's desk. Eddard nodded his head and offered him a seat. Stannis sat down and got comfortable. A servant poured both of them a cup each of water before taking her leave. Once the servant was gone Eddard looked up to face Stannis._

 _"I have asked you here to discuss Commander Janos Slynt of the City Watch," he started. "I have reason to believe that he could be corrupt." Stannis looked at him with a grim look in his eyes, his face set into a serious stare._

 _"I can tell you that he is indeed corrupt," Stannis said, surprising him. "I have been trying to get evidence against that man for years, but every time I get any evidence someone else takes the fall, and then they turn up dead. I have some suspicion that Lord Baelish could be involved with him." Eddard nodded his head in understanding. "Can we trust each other in regards to dealing with these two men?" Stannis asked. Eddard looked at him and nodded his head._

 _"Prince Silas has made it clear that he believes Baelish to be up to something," Eddard said. Stannis nodded._

 _"My nephew has been looking into Baelish's loyalties for months," he said. "I do not know the extent of his own investigation, but I know that he has someone who is keeping him well informed. Whoever it is is irrelevant to me, so long as they don't bring harm to him. As to investigating Slynt, I have learned of someone who may be able to help us." Eddard straightened himself up in his seat._

 _"Who is this man, if I may ask?"_

 _"A knight from the Dornish Marches called Ser Derrik," Stannis answered. "He is here in the capitol for the tourney. I have not approached him in case anyone watching me for Baelish should decide to silence him. All I know of him is that his brother served as a City Watchman for several years before he was forced to leave. Ser Derrik's brother left before I could speak to him, and the man might know where to find him. Like I said I dare not approach him, but you could." Eddard agreed with him. He could go to the man after the tourney was done and speak to him. No knight could refuse a summons from the Hand of the King after all, and it might bring Eddard closer to learning the truth behind Jon Arryn's death._

 _"I shall speak to him on the morrow," he said. "Can I rely on you for future support in my investigation?" he asked him, offering his hand. Stannis looked at Eddard for only a moment before he took his hand and shook it._

 _"You can, my lord," the Lord of Dragonstone said._

Eddard cursed the Mountain for killing Ser Derrik before he could speak to him. He woke up this morning ready to go and speak to him, only to learn from Renly as he rode to the tourney grounds that the knight had been killed. He was not at all happy with this, but he could not do anything now.

"Ser Gregor's lance broke when it had hit him in the throat," Ser Barristan had explained. "The boy was eager to prove himself, and said to be a fair swordsman, but it was clear that he was not ready for this."

"Are any of us truly ready?" Eddard asked the aged knight, who had no answer. Many men were never ready to face life-or-death situations; Eddard certainly was not ready the first time he entered battle. After looking at the body for another minute he looked at the Sisters. The women of the faith were working diligently on preparing Ser Derrik's body to be laid to rest. He gave his respects to them before he turned and left the pavilion. Ser Barristan followed behind him, followed by Harwin. "Who rides in the last matches of the joust Ser Barristan?" he asked.

"Ser Lukas Storm, sworn shield to the Crown Prince; Ser Arys of the Kingsguard, one of my sworn brothers; Ser Loras Tyrell of Highgarden, they call him the Knight of Flowers; and the Mountain, Ser Gregor Clegane." Eddard heard the disgust in Barristan's voice when he said that last name, as if saying the name were an ill omen. "I would have rode as well, but I fear I am well past my prime when it comes to the joust."

"You are still a fair sword though Ser Barristan," Harwin said from behind them. Eddard looked over his shoulder to the guardsmen, who was looking at the aged knight with reverence. Barristan smiled.

"Ser Arys may well become a superior swordsman once I am gone," he said. "But you are right young man, I am still one of the greatest swordsmen to walk Westeros, or so they say. Personally I feel like I am the least of such men." Eddard smiled at him.

"Still I am glad we did not cross swords at the Trident Ser Barristan," he stated. "If we had fought… well I don't think life as a widow would have suited my lady wife." Barristan gave Eddard a slight smirk.

"From what I have heard you are a skilled swordsman yourself Lord Eddard," he said. "Perhaps you might have been able to best me in combat, and you had the advantage of your father's sword."

"Very true," Eddard replied. "But a Valyrian sword does not make one a better swordsman." The old knight gave a small laugh.

"Indeed my lord."

After a few minutes of walking the three men stopped by the benches where Eddard found his daughters eating their breakfast. The girls had stayed in a pavilion overnight with their wolves as well as Jon and several guardsmen to protect them. Sansa waved at him as he approached, while Arya smiled widely while chewing her bacon.

"Morning girls," he said as he stood next to them.

"Morning father," they both chorused together. Arya swallowed her mouthful of food before looking up to Eddard. "Are you here to watch the rest of the tourney?" she asked innocently. Eddard gave her a small smile as he sat down.

"I shall leave you be my lord hand," Ser Barristan spoke.

"You don't have to leave on our account Ser Barristan," Arya said to him as he made ready to leave. The knight smiled at her.

"Unfortunately I am required to stand by the King," he said to her. "Good day to you my ladies, my lord." With that Ser Barristan left them. Eddard turned to look at his girls and joined them in their conversation. They spoke of the upcoming joust finals and who they thought would win. Arya believed that Ser Lukas would carry the day, while Sansa believed that Ser Arys could possibly go through. As they spoke Eddard thought of the last time he had been to a tourney; over twenty years ago, when his own father was still alive, and his brother Brandon, and Lyanna. It was the tourney at Harranhall, where Rhaegar had crowned Lyanna the Queen of Love and Beauty in place of his wife. The tourney where everything changed.

After the girls finished their breakfast Eddard led them to the royal box where Robert and Cersei sat with their two youngest children, Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen. Joffrey was still sick from yesterday, although the Grand Maester assured them that he would make a speedy recovery. Silas however was nowhere to be seen. He had been present yesterday, but now he was not here. Eddard looked at Robert and cleared his throat.

"Where is Prince Silas your grace?" he asked. Robert laughed, as he always seemed to do these days.

"Ah Ned, don't be so bloody formal here," he said. "We are family after all, and others who would take offence at you using my name are not within the royal box and therefore have no say." After Robert finished laughing he took a quick swig of wine from his cup. Eddard still could not believe that his old friend was drinking at this hour. "Anyway as to where Silas is, you'll find out soon enough." Eddard frowned at his friend's cryptic answer but he did not question him further. He smiled at Queen Cersei before turning to face the grounds. As the girls settled down with their direwolves Eddard saw Jon standing in front of the box, looking at him with an anxious look. Eddard stood from his seat and quickly walked towards him.

"What is it?" he asked once he was in front of his son. Jon cleared his throat before he answered.

"Ser Andar Royce has asked me to pass along a message to you," he said quietly. "He wishes to meet with you at some point after the tourney is done. All he said was that it concerned the late Lord Arryn's lady wife and son." Eddard looked at Jon quizzically. After a moment he nodded his head.

"Very well. Did he say where?" he asked.

"Ser Andar said he would arrive at the Tower of the Hand after the last competition," Jon responded. Eddard gave his son a quick nod before going back to his seat.

"Trouble father?" Sansa asked as he sat down.

"We shall see Sansa," he replied.

The first match was between Ser Arys and Ser Loras. The two knights bowed to the King, both sitting upon their mares. Eddard noticed that Ser Loras looked most put off while the young Kingsguard was smirking. Sansa had told him earlier that Silas had explained to her how Ser Loras had cheated in a previous tourney by using a mare in heat. With Ser Arys mounted on a mare there was no danger of anyone being cheated. Soon both men took their positions at either end of the field and then the horns were blown, signalling both knights to begin. They charged at each other, passing one another three times without success. On the fourth tilt Ser Arys had unhorsed his opponent; the Knight of Flowers rolled in the dirt as the crowd cheered the Kingsguard. Ser Arys rode over to Ser Loras and offered him his hand to congratulate him on his efforts, and Ser Loras, being ever the honourable and gracious knight, accepted his congratulations and shook his hand. As both men left the field the next two competitors rode into view; Ser Lukas rode his stallion towards the royal box as Ser Gregor arrived on his own stallion. The two men bowed before taking their positions.

"A hundred dragons on the Mountain," Eddard heard Baelish call out. He looked off to the right where he saw the Master of Coin sitting several yards away.

"Against the Crown Prince's sworn shield?" someone asked. "The Mountain doesn't have a chance."

"Would you care to place a bet on that my good lord?" Baelish asked in a taunting manner. Eddard stopped listening to the two men as the horns blew once more, and the Mountain rode his horse towards Ser Lukas. Both men broke their lances against each other's shields, but neither fell from their mount. It was the same for six more tilts, with Lukas nearly falling off of his horse after the fifth tilt, but on the eighth tilt Lukas struck true and unhorsed the Mountain. The knight smacked into the earth, ploughing up dirt as he hit the ground. The crowd roared their joy when Lukas rode around the field, waving at the crowd. Eddard noticed that the Mountain was stood back on his feet, his helmet thrown to the side and his face contorted with anger. He glared at Ser Lukas before stomping off, shoving his squire out of his path as he stormed off.

"It is good to see the Mountain humbled so," Princess Myrcella said as she clapped her hands furiously, a wide smile lighting up her young face.

"Indeed my princess," Sansa said as she too clapped her hands at Lukas's victory. In the back of his mind Eddard could not help but think that it would have been better if Ser Gregor had not gotten back to his feet.

After several minutes the last two knights arrived in front of the royal box. Ser Arys and Ser Lukas both sat upon their horses. Ser Arys had changed his mare for a stallion, but otherwise both men were ready. Once the clapping had ended King Robert stood up.

"And so it comes down to these two fine knights!" he roared as loudly as he could for all to hear. "Let it be known that these two men shall leave the field this day with their coin purses heavier than normal! But whose purse shall be heavier? Let us see for ourselves! May the Seven watch over you!" After Robert spoke both men rode to their starting positions. Once their squires had given them their lances Robert spoke once more. "In the event that you both unhorse each other you shall decide on the victor by a trial by combat! Your squires shall give you your swords and you shall fight until one of you yields! BEGIN!" With Robert's words the horn-blower sounded the horn and then both knights rode against each other. They broke their lances upon their shields but stayed on their mounts. Both men rode again, hitting their opponent's shield but not unhorsing each other. Eddard was beginning to wonder if this was deliberately being staged for the commons to give them a good tale to tell their children in the future. After five tilts Lukas and Arys both struck each other, and Arys fell from his stallion. At the same time Lukas lost his balance and then he too fell. Some of the gathered crowd laughed, but most remained silent. As the two men stood up and dusted themselves off Eddard turned to face Robert, who looked amused at what had happened.

"BRAN! GET MY SWORD!" Lukas bellowed. Eddard watched as his boy dutifully ran over to Lukas with a hand-and-a-halfer in his hands. Ser Arys set his squire to the same task. Soon both knights had freed their swords from their scabbards and then they walked to stand before the royal box. After a moment Robert nodded his head, and then the two men began their dual. _This is the real contest_ , Eddard thought. Both men hacked, stabbed, slashed, parried, thrust, blocked, slashed, jabbed and dodged as they fought furiously, both eager to claim the champion's purse. Neither man relented; Ser Arys parried a savage blow that was aimed at his head before he thrust at Ser Lukas's thigh; Ser Lukas slammed the flat of his blade down onto Ser Arys's sword and then he pushed his shoulder into him to throw him off balance. The two knights fought ferociously for the better part of half an hour until finally they both swung at each other's necks. Their blades stopped an inch away from the skin of the other, and both men froze. The commons remained silent, watching tensely as the knights stood their ground, staring at each other. In the end both men stood back and began to circle each other, until Ser Arys strode forward with his sword held high. Ser Lukas blocked the blow and pushed forward, and the young Kingsguard knight fell onto his rear, his sword flying from his hand.

"YIELD, I YIELD!" Ser Arys bellowed as his opponent pressed the tip of his sword to his throat. Ser Lukas stepped back and faced the royal box, a feral grin on his face. The crowd cheered as Robert proclaimed him the champion of the joust.

With the joust done the next competition went underway. The archery boards were set up and the competitors readied their bows, all eager to prove their marksmanship. Eddard watched some of those who took part with interest, and wondered if Arya was wishing she was allowed to take part. Arya had been taught some archery by Theon and Jon over the last two years, and Eddard had to admit that she was a skilled archer. They watched as one man in particular proved himself to be a rather skilled marksman. The man from the Dornish Marches loosed off arrow after arrow with unerring accuracy. After a couple of hours that same archer took the purse for the archery competition after proving himself to be the best archer this day. The man in question, who called himself Anguy, smiled as he accepted the winner's purse. Eddard was impressed with him, and made a mental note to ask the man if he would be interested in joining his household. The next competition to be held was the last one; the melee. This would be the event that Robert would enjoy the most. It took half an hour for all eighty-four of the combatants to assemble, but that gave Eddard a chance to see if he recognised anyone. He saw the Red Priest from Essos, Thoros of Myr, standing with a flagon of wine in his hand, his sword sheathed at his hip. Eddard remembered him from the Greyjoy Rebellion, the man had been the first one through the breach during the Siege of Pyke, and had slain many Ironborn during that fight. Although he was not fond of the man's religion he had immense respect for him. As well as Thoros there was Lord Beric Dondarrion, who had taken part in the jousts yesterday, and Lothor Brune, who stood opposite the Lightning Lord, and Bryce Caron, who had a lady's favour on his shield arm. Eddard also noticed several Freys gathered around. The one man who took Eddard's notice however was a man in full steel plate armour, which was black in colour. His helm was plain, with the visor pulled up to show his face, but the man hid his face behind a black scarf. _A mystery knight trying his luck today,_ Eddard thought.

Once all of the combatants were assembled and armoured, Robert stood up and held his hand for silence. When everyone watching had fallen quiet he nodded his head to the herald, who began to go over the rules of the melee. Eddard listened as the various rules were given, and he noticed how some of the knights and lords, particularly those from the Stormlands, were fidgeting on the spot, all eager to fight. Due to the number of combatants it was decided that this melee would be fought on foot, which in itself was quite unusual. After several minutes of going over the rules the herald fell silent, and all eyes fell on Robert. Eddard watched as his King raised his hand above his head.

"BEGIN!" he bellowed, and the crowd cheered as twelve combatants surged forward, ready to fight.

"About time," Arya said quietly when two knights rushed each other. For the next twenty minutes the combatants attacked in waves until all were engaged. By the time the last men charged in three knights had yielded, one of them limping off the field as another clutched his arm while blood pumped out between his fingers. Eddard knew that any contest of arms was dangerous, but he had forgotten just how brutal a melee could be. The field was alive with the sound of steel clashing upon steel. Men grunted and yelled and cursed as they hacked and thrust and slashed at each other. It was indeed a brutal fight. The contest lasted for four hours, and during that time much had happened. A Frey knight had to be carried off as he lay unconscious from the fighting; Lothor Brune had defeated most of his opponents with skill; Lord Beric had bested many knights before he was floored by his friend Thoros, who mouthed a quick apology to him before he turned to face his next opponent with that fire wreathed sword of his. Eddard noticed that the Red Priest's sword was wreathed with normal fire, not the green flamed wildfire that he had coated his blade in during the Siege of Pyke.

As Thoros dealt with many opponents Eddard watched the black armoured mystery knight fighting several knights at once. Every man who challenged him put up a good fight, but all were defeated after a few minutes. As the melee neared its end the black knight stood to the side after defeating Lothor Brune, who he bested by disarming him with a strike to his wrist with the flat of the blade. The black knight watched as Thoros fought off the last two opponents, one a knight from Oldtown, the other a Westerlands knight. Eddard took the opportunity to observe the knight; he had black armour that was professionally forged and had no ornamentation to it at all; in his right hand he bore a hand-and-a-half longsword with a steel blade, again forged to an incredibly professional standard, with a simple cross guard and a solid round pommel; in the left hand he carried a large iron kite shield, which was engraved with seven figures around the edges (three on one side, three on the other and the seventh at the bottom point), and in the middle of the shield a tree with a carved face in its middle.

"That's interesting," Arya said.

"What is?" Sansa asked. Arya pointed to the mystery knight.

"That black knight's shield, do you see it?" Sansa nodded.

"You've seen the engraving on it Arya," Eddard stated. Arya nodded her head.

"The mystery knight is showing respect to both the old gods and the new," Arya said.

"What makes you say that?" Sansa asked. Eddard looked at his youngest daughter, intrigued as to how she came to that conclusion. Arya looked at both of them with a little smile.

"The tree in the middle with a carved face represents a weirwood tree, like the one back home," she said. "The leaves of the tree are at the top, while around the edges are seven figures." Sansa stared wide eyed at Arya before she looked at the mystery knight again. After a moment she slowly nodded her head.

"Yes, I see it now Arya," Sansa said. "Three on one side for the Father, Smith and Warrior, three on the opposite side for the Mother, Maiden and Crone…"

"And the one at the bottom of the shield, right in the middle beneath the tree, for the Stranger," Arya finished with a proud smirk on her face. Eddard smiled at her when she looked up at him.

"Very good my girl," he said, patting Arya's shoulder before he looked back to the fight to see that Thoros had bested his opponents and turned to face the mystery knight.

The last two combatants faced each other and began to pace around each other. The mystery knight lunged for Thoros, who stepped aside and then slammed his sword down against the knight's shield. As he did the knight pushed against his shield and threw Thoros back a little. The two of them stepped apart and began circling again. Eventually Thoros made his move, slashing his sword at the knight's neck, but the knight must have seen that blow coming as he stood forward and smashed his shield up before thrusting his own blade at Thoros's belly. The tip of the blade scratched the iron plate that Thoros wore, but other than that it did nothing. Thoros brought his own shield to bare and pushed the knight away and slashed at his back. Eddard could have sworn he heard the Queen give a gasp of shock, but when he turned to look at her she had her usual mask of disdain on her face. He turned back to watch the fight, a little frown on his face. The knight was still on his feet and had his right shoulder to Thoros, who then thrust his flaming sword at him. The knight jumped to the side and slammed his shield down onto Thoros's sword, pushing it into the ground as he dropped to his knees. The knight then dropped his own sword and grabbed Thoros's sword arm. He stood up and then pulled the Red Priest back and flung him several yards away. Thoros landed with a loud thump. As he struggled to get back to his feet the knight picked up the flaming sword that had fallen from Thoros's grasp and plunged it into the soft earth. After a few moments he looked towards Thoros, who was shaking his head in disbelief. Barely a minute later the knight pulled out the sword and threw it back to its owner. Thoros picked his sword up, but now the flames were extinguished, but still the crowd cheered as the Red Priest rushed his opponent.

Thoros went on the offensive, slashing his sword at the knight, only to find his steel hitting the iron shield. For a few minutes Thoros attacked while the knight only used his shield, blocking every blow that Thoros rained down upon him. Eventually Thoros over extended himself and he swung his sword overhead, only for the knight to step to the side, which resulted in Thoros falling forward. The Red Priest stayed on his feet, but in his efforts to keep his balance he could only raise his shield as the mystery knight brought his sword down again and again. Each blow was powerful enough to stagger Thoros, even if only slightly. After ten blows Thoros's knees began to buckle, and when the eleventh blow was delivered the shield was torn in two, the wood splintering. Thoros thrust his sword at the knight, and the tip sliced into the left arm where there was a gap in the armour. Eddard heard the knight grunt in pain as Thoros pulled his sword back. There was a little splash of blood, but Eddard noticed that it was on the outer part of the man's arm, and so it was only really a scratch that bled slightly. The knight's shield arm was not affected at all. Thoros raised his sword over his shoulder, but before he could deliver his swing the knight bashed his shield into him and swung his sword at Thoros's ruined shield. The force of the blow sent the shield out of his hand, and left him without protection, but Thoros did not yet yield. In a final effort Thoros kicked out at the knight's legs, but he was out of reach and kicked only thin air. In the next instant the knight swung his sword down, and Thoros of Myr found himself without a weapon as his sword clattered to the ground. Blood spurted from his sword hand from where the edge of the blade had hit the back of his hand. As the knight raised his sword over his shoulder, ready for the killing blow the Red Priest did the only sensible thing that he could do; he dropped to his knees and yielded the match.

The crowd cheered with delight as the mystery knight lowered his blade to accept Thoros's surrender. The knight helped the man back to his feet and patted him on the shoulder, no doubt offering his congratulations. Everyone in the crowd clapped their hands in applause as the knight walked towards the royal box. Even Eddard clapped along with Arya and Sansa. Robert was on his feet, chuckling as he clapped his hands.

"Well done, well done," he said. After a few minutes of applause the cheering subsided. The knight dropped to his knees and bowed to the King. "Remove your helm, and let all here see who you are." Eddard was not surprised at Robert's command, but even so it was normal for a mystery knight to keep his identity hidden unless defeated, which was usually the only way to reveal who a mystery knight is. Regardless the knight did as commanded and began to remove his helm. He lifted the visor first before he pulled the helm completely off, revealing a scarf that was wrapped around the head. Once the helm was placed on the ground the knight began to unwrap the scarf, keeping his head low. Only when the scarf was removed did he look up, and many of the court gasped, except for Robert and Cersei. His hair was damp from the sweat, and his face was covered in dirt and grime; his skin glistened with the coat of sweat, and some blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, but despite it all Silas Baratheon grinned widely at his father.

"Seven hells," Arya muttered in shock as Eddard's eyes widened. Robert chuckled quietly.

"You have done our House well this day Prince Silas," Robert's voice boomed for all to hear. "I knew you would make me proud. You have proven yet again that you are a true son of House Baratheon." Silas looked up at his father as he stood up.

"I told you I would take this lot down… your grace," Silas said enthusiastically before adding the last part. Robert closed the distance and embraced his son and heir, and the crowd erupted into cheers once more. Eddard joined everyone else in the royal box as they clapped their hands. He looked towards the Queen and noticed the sincere and respectful smile she was showing to him, which took him completely by surprise. Despite that he smiled back to her before looking at Silas who had released his father from their embrace and stepped forward to embrace his younger siblings, who were both laughing. As he did Eddard looked to his daughters, and he noticed that while Sansa was sniggering the way she did as a child whenever something amused her, Arya had what he could only describe as a look of longing as she stared at the Crown Prince with her mouth slightly ajar. _Gods be good_ , he thought.

After the melee ended the tourney was brought to an end. Robert and Silas sat at the feast and celebrated for a short while, and Eddard and his girls sat with them. After an hour Silas decided that it was time for him to get some much needed rest. Robert reluctantly agreed after Cersei said it would be prudent for Silas to get himself looked at by the Grand Maester, a suggestion that made Silas visibly cringe. Eddard followed Silas on his trip back to the Red Keep, followed by Sansa and Arya. The journey took a short time with the streets practically deserted at this hour of the night. During the ride back Eddard spent some time talking with Bran who as Ser Lukas's squire had accompanied them on their return trip. Eddard learned that Bran was enjoying his time as a squire, even though it was hard work for him. The group ascended Aegon's High Hill and rode through the main gate into the Red Keep.

"Well, this is where we part ways this evening," Silas said, his mood still joyous. Eddard nodded his head.

"Indeed Silas," he said quietly. "Don't forget to get your arm looked at," Eddard added, pointing at Silas's arm. The Crown Prince looked down at his wounded arm and laughed. His laugh at that moment in time was very much like his father's laugh.

"Have no fear Eddard," he said. "I do not intend to be the Prince who lost his arm due to a little scratch earned at a tourney." Silas smiled at him before urging his horse to the stables of the Red Keep. He looked over to Eddard's daughters before he left. "I'll see you tomorrow, or whenever I next see you both my friends." _Always so informal, just like his father_ , Eddard thought as the girls bid Silas goodnight. _He's got some of his good traits at least_.

"Goodnight father," Bran called out as he followed Ser Lukas.

"Goodnight son," he called out after him. As Silas and his group rode away Eddard led his daughters to the Tower of the Hand. As he rode through the gates he saw a young man with a familiar look to him waiting by the stables. Remembering Jon's words from earlier Eddard realised that this was Lord Yohn's son, Ser Andar. Andar looked a little bit shocked upon seeing the direwolves, but they paid him no heed. Eddard dismounted his horse and walked over to the young knight and heir to Runestone.

"My lord hand," Andar said as he bowed to him.

"Ser Andar of House Royce," Eddard said by way of greeting. "I was not expecting you to arrive in such a manner, otherwise I would have left instruction for you to be given some refreshments." The young Valeman gave a slight smile.

"I apologise for the means of passing along my message my lord," he said. "But truth be told I am not overly pleased with myself in regard to how I have thus far conducted myself. I am not used to dealing with… sensitive matters the way I am forced to just now." Eddard took Andar's hint and turned to face Jon, who was joined by Jory as he walked over to him.

"Jon, see the girls to bed just now please," he asked his son, who nodded and rushed to obey. "Jory, you know what to do." His guard captain nodded and turned to deliver orders to the garrison. Eddard turned to look at Andar and signalled him to follow him into the Tower.

Half an hour later both men were sat down in Eddard's solar, each with a cup of mead in their hands. As they sat Eddard looked at Andar and took in his appearance. Andar had slate-grey eyes much like his father Lord Yohn, as well as short dark hair. His face was clean shaven, and his eyebrows while big are not as bushy as Eddard remembers his father's to be. Andar was young, but older than Robb by at least five years. Eddard remembers that Andar has a younger brother, Ser Waymar, who travelled through Winterfell four years ago to join the Night's Watch. Ser Waymar was a year older than Robb, and quite eager to join the Watch from what Eddard remembered.

"So you are here in relation to my good-sister and nephew?" he asked to get the conversation started. Andar put his cup of mead down and nodded his head.

"Indeed my lord," he began. "My lord father has sent me here with a letter for your eyes only. I have not read it, but I am well aware of its contents, as well as the seriousness of my father's accusation." As he spoke Andar held out a scroll to Eddard, which he took. He examined it and saw the seal of House Royce still fixed to the scroll. Eddard broke the seal and unrolled the long letter.

 **To Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand of the King,**

 **My friend it has been a while since we last spoke, but I must bring ill news to you. I have sent my eldest son and heir to you not only to deliver my words but to also come under your protection. I ask that you accept Andar's service as I fear that to remain in the Vale at the moment will not be wise. I have been investigating the late Lord Arryn's wife and her dealings with Lord Baelish, who I understand sits upon the Small Council as Master of Coin. I have had reason to suspect Baelish's loyalty to the crown for many years, but recently I have discovered something that if true could have severe ramifications for House Arryn.**

 **My lord I regret to inform you that I firmly believe that your good-sister the Lady Lysa Arryn has birthed a bastard son and falsely claimed him as Lord Jon Arryn's heir. My suspicions have been with me since meeting with young Lord Robert after his return to the Eyrie after Lord Jon's death. While he takes after his lady mother in his hair colouring much like most of your own children by Lady Catelyn do, his eyes do not come from either Lady Lysa nor Lord Jon. I hope to the gods that I am wrong, but if my belief is true then it means that the line of House Arryn has ended with Lord Jon.**

 **I know that this is a grievous accusation that could ruin my own reputation and endanger my House. I have sent Andar to serve you as a knight, officially to show a strong bond between Houses Stark and Royce, but mainly to protect him should my investigation lead to my public disgrace and death. My second son Ser Robar has gone missing recently and I know not if he lives. If the situation worsens then I may have no choice but to send my daughters Ysilla and Lorra to King's Landing as well. If it comes to that then it means that my own life will be in danger, and so I would ask you to look after my family. If my line must continue exiled from the Vale so be it, but I will not let House Royce end with me.**

 **Your friend,**

 **Yohn Royce, Lord of Runestone**

Eddard's eyes widened with disbelief at the words he read. This was indeed a serious accusation against Catelyn's sister. Eddard felt sick to his stomach, and he wondered if Lord Yohn may have taken leave of his senses. But Yohn Royce was a man of honour, like Eddard. He would never make such an allegation unless he was absolutely certain that there was a grain of truth to it. Eddard looked up to Andar, who was sitting uncomfortably in his seat.

"This is indeed serious," Eddard said. "If your father cannot prove this then House Royce will be shamed." Andar cleared his throat before speaking.

"I know my lord," he said. "My brother Robar has disappeared to the Stranger knows where, and my father has had to contend with threats from some of the other Houses of the Vale. He is alone in his investigation, but he refuses to involve me lest I disappear as well." Eddard stood up from his seat and walked around his desk. He looked down at Andar and regarded him. Yohn's son did not seem the type to lie for any reason, and he was in an unfamiliar environment. He was his father's son and he held himself with honour, but there was fear behind his eyes. Eddard knew that no matter what the outcome of Yohn's investigation into Lysa, if it comes to it he would watch over Yohn's son and daughters. Lysa may be his wife's family, but if she has indeed done as Yohn accuses then she has brought danger to many.

Eddard put his hand on Andar's shoulder. "Ser Andar, tell me everything that you know."

* * *

 **AN:** While I remember, a quick shout out to the author **Aldon Blackreyne** for inspiration for this chapter.

So as I said earlier, I may pair Silas with Arya, as I love her character and I have always wondered how she could have been if she had lived in Winterfell for longer than she did in the books/TV show. Then again I may not. Perhaps I'll go with Sansa, or Margeary, or some other woman.

So now we are getting problems coming from the Vale. I have noticed one or two fics out there where little Robert Arryn's paternity is called into question, so I have decided to go along the same line, but whether I resolve the issue or not I have yet to decide. Perhaps I shall be cruel and leave everyone questioning the truth behind Robert Arryn's father.

Anyway, next chapter we will go back to the North and see what Robb and co are doing. Ramsey has trapped himself in a corner after Hornwood, now all Robb has to do is wait for his banners to arrive.

Until next time folks.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN:** New chapter guys. A bit of a long one with a fair bit of talking, but there is some action near the end.

Just to give you a fair warning it'll be a while before I get another chapter up as I have been distracted by Fallout 4 recently, so I'll be writing at a much slower pace. But do not worry, I'm not giving up on this story.

As always, I don't own GoT or ASOIAF, they belong to GRRM and HBO.

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

Robb Stark

Hornwood was a hive of activity. Men were busy carrying out their tasks, but none wore the colours of House Hornwood. The dark orange banners bearing the Hornwood sigil of a brown bull moose were still seen from the castle, but the men within were in the colours of House Manderly. Sitting atop his horse was a fat knight with a bald head and big moustache. Robb recognised him as Ser Wendel Manderly.

"My Lord Stark," the knight spoke loudly as Robb and his men approached him. "I am glad that you are here. Our prisoners have been giving me such a headache it is almost tempting to let them escape so that I can honourably dispatch the curs." Robb inclined his head as he stopped his horse. He knew that there were not many prisoners taken by Ser Wendel and his men; the charred bodies of men piled a mile west of the castle walls were the bodies of the Bolton men that had been killed, and there were dozens if not just over a hundred bodies from the height of the pile.

"Ser Wendel, how bad is the situation?" Robb asked the older knight, who had a grim look to him.

"It is bad my lord," he answered as he urged his horse to turn around. Robb rode alongside Ser Wendel as he led them into the courtyard. "Lord Halys and his son Daryn were brutally killed by the traitor. Lady Donella, Lord Halys's wife, my father's cousin, had suffered a worse fate." Robb did not need Ser Wendel to elaborate what he meant; it was clear already that Lady Hornwood was more than likely raped before being killed.

"With Lord Halys and his wife and son dead, House Hornwood is gone," Robb said sadly. He remembered visiting the castle with his father when he was ten years old. He had found a friend in Daryn during his time there as a child, and he was fond of old Lady Donella who had been nothing but kind to him during his stay, even when he and Daryn had caused some upset for the castellan's son she was kind after she finished scolding them. Their senseless murders angered him. "We shall bring justice upon the Bastard of the Dreadfort for his crimes. You have my word Ser Wendel." The knight nodded his head, his face more grim than before. They rode through the gates and entered the courtyard to find it in a state of disrepair. Men scurried around carrying whatever tools and supplies they needed to do their job. Robb noticed that one or two men were only wearing tunics instead of thick coats. _The winter has definitely subsided if some men are brave enough to only wear tunics_ , he thought as he dismounted his horse.

Robb followed Ser Wendel as he led them inside the castle. They entered the lord's solar, which had clearly been cleaned up. Robb shuddered at the thought of Lord Hornwood and his family being murdered in this very room. As he looked down at the desk he noticed a dark stain on the corner furthest from him. He looked away, not willing to look at the dried blood stain. As he took a seat Robb noticed that Ser Wendel's older brother Ser Wylis was also present.

"Ser Wylis," he said in greeting. The heir to White Harbour bowed his head.

"My lord. I have brought with me more men and knights to assist in dealing with the kinslaying bastard," he said. "My lord father is eager to see justice done."

"As are we all," Robb replied as a few more men entered the room. He sees the master of Torrhen's Square and head of House Tallhart, Ser Helman, and his son Benfred, the heir to Torrhen's Square. Benfred is a year younger than Robb, and a close friend to him; he was often in Robb's company whenever he came to Winterfell with his father. He was absent at Robb's wedding though as he was still healing from an injury that he had sustained in the weeks before the royal visit. "Ben," Robb greeted his old friend.

"Hey Robb… um, my lord," he said sheepishly as his father rolled his eyes.

"My Lord Stark," Ser Helman said. "We have brought four hundred archers as well as three hundred pikemen. It's not much I know, but we will do our part. I brought Benfred with me as I feel it is time for him to learn the ways of war properly." Robb looked from Ser Helman to Benfred and saw a small smile that the young man had. _Just the same as me when I first rode off to battle_ , he realised. _He'll wise up soon enough._

"Let us hope to be done with this quickly," Robb said before he looked at some of the others to have arrived. Lord Medger Cerwyn stood by Robb's right shoulder, with Robin Flint of Widow's Watch stood next to him. Across from them was Ser Donnel Locke, a knight from House Locke of Oldcastle, and to Robb's surprise Smalljon Umber, the eldest son of the Greatjon. "I wasn't expecting to see you just yet Smalljon," Robb said to the towering man. Smalljon laughed as he stepped forward to the desk.

"My father had sent me with three hundred swordsmen to meet up with you and let you know of his own plans," he said. Theon put a map of the North on the desk and put some books down on the corners to hold it down and stop it rolling back up. Smalljon placed his finger over the map as Robb leaned over to see what he was pointing at. "My father has marched our forces south of the Last River, and is gathering our might within the Lonely Hills. When I left my lord father was waiting for the Karstarks to cross their side of the river. From there our combined forces will lay siege to the Dreadfort, and force Snow to watch us, turning his attention away from his west and south." Robb nodded his head.

"From there we'll surround him and cut off any hope of escape," Robb concluded, looking up at Smalljon to see him nod his head in agreement. "We do this quickly we can end this matter within a month at most. Still, we better plan for a long siege."

"Taking the Dreadfort will not be easy my lord," Ser Helman said as Robb stood up straight. "That fortress is ancient, with thick stone walls and massive towers. If I remember my history well it took King Harlon Stark a long time to force them to surrender."

"Two years," Robb said, remembering the lessons that he had learned from Maester Luwin in regards to the Kings in the North, from Bran the Builder, the first King in the North and founder of House Stark who built Winterfell and the Wall, to the last King in the North, Torrhen Stark, the King who Knelt. King Harlon had dealt with House Bolton several centuries ago when they rebelled against Stark rule. The war between the two Houses ended with a two year long siege that saw the inhabitants of the Dreadfort struggle and eventually they began to starve. Only when it got unbearable for them did the Boltons surrender and bend the knee. It was around that time that they were forced to abandon their vile practice of flaying their enemies.

"It won't be easy, but we can manage," Smalljon said. "We have enough men between us to take the blasted place and raze it to the ground." Both Manderly brothers voiced their agreement with Smalljon, as did Ser Helman and Ser Donnel. Robin Flint cleared his throat to catch everyone's attention.

"What's up lad?" Ser Helman asked him. Robin stepped forward and looked at Robb.

"My lord, while laying siege to the Dreadfort I believe it would be prudent to scour the surrounding land for any secret access points," he said. "Escape tunnels or secret entrances. If we lay siege to the castle Ramsey Snow may well attempt to escape, and if there is such a tunnel then we will still have a dangerous criminal to contend with should we sack the Dreadfort." Robin stepped back slightly after he was done talking. Robb looked from him to the others, who all looked back at him.

"That idea has some merit my lord," Ser Donnel said.

"Indeed," Robb agreed. He looked at Robin and gave him a small smile. "Theon, as we approach the Dreadfort you will be in charge of some of our scouts, along with Robin Flint and Smalljon who shall lead their own scouting parties. Between the three of you I want you all to search every inch of the land for anything that could lead to the Dreadfort. If such a tunnel exists, and it probably would exist, then it could be possible for us to enter the Dreadfort and take it from within." Theon nodded when Robb finished talking.

"Once there I shall not rest until we have exhausted such a search," he replied. Robb looked to the master of Torrhen's Square.

"Ser Helman, I want you to send your fastest riders to Lord Umber and Lord Karstark, commanding them to search the land on their side thoroughly as well. If they find any tunnels they are to guard them and send word to me as quickly as possible."

"It'll be done my lord," Ser Helman said. Robb then looked back down at the map and traced his finger around the marking of the Dreadfort.

"If the bastard has any sense then he'll start to force any holdfasts and castles within the vicinity of the Dreadfort to send whatever food they have to him to be ready for a long siege," he said. "I want standing orders throughout the ranks that any provisions recovered from Bolton men are to be delivered to our own stockpiles, or if they cannot be taken then they are to be burned." The gathered men looked up at him as if he had taken leave of his senses.

"My lord?" Ser Wylis asked. Robb looked at him.

"If we cannot take the Dreadfort from within then it'll be a long siege," Robb explained. "The less food they have the sooner we can take the castle. What food we have to destroy we will replace with whatever funds we have to spare. I'm sure the Reach has already started to plant their own crops again." The men all began to nod their heads once they understood what Robb had planned.

"With spring in the air and summer approaching we will be getting more crops planted soon," Ser Helman said. "As long as we are careful we won't lose too much food."

"When we arrive at the Dreadfort I want men to start building siege towers and battering rams," Robb continued. "If we have to endure a long siege then I want them ready before we have exhausted all other options. Is that clear?" The men all bellowed their agreement. Robb took a deep breath as he walked to the window on the other side of the desk.

"My lord, what do you want done with the prisoners?" Ser Wendel asked. Robb sighed as he turned to face him.

"I've a mind to have them beheaded, but the Wall does need men. Send them to Castle Black. They can either take the black, or lose their heads," he said, his voice stern like his father's would be when giving such a command.

"Very well my lord," Ser Wendel responded.

"That will be all. If anyone has a concern then remain behind and we shall discuss it, otherwise you may take your leave. I'll hold another meeting in two days' time and then we shall march out as soon as our forces here are ready to march." With that the men left the room. Robb turned to see all of them leave apart from Theon and Benfred.

When the others had left Robb sat down on a seat and indicated for Theon and Benfred to do the same. Both of them sat down and looked at him. Robb sighed as he leant back in his chair. At that moment he felt like he was much older than twenty. He rubbed his hands over his face and then he brushed his hair back. Theon looked at him before looking at Benfred.

"So how're you doing Benfred?" Theon asked him. "Last I heard you injured yourself. You weren't too vigorous with a girl now were you?" Benfred looked taken aback by the question.

"Wha… NO!" he yelled out in surprise. He coughed quickly and gave Theon an apologetic look. "No, I had fallen off of my horse while riding around Torrhen's Square. I got a bit careless and lost my balance and was quite lucky the stupid beast didn't trample me into the dirt." Robb let out a dry laugh.

"Gods Ben I didn't think you would be daft enough to drop off of your horse," he said. "It's a shame you didn't make it to my wedding. You would've enjoyed yourself." Benfred looked down at his lap with a sad look in his eye.

"Yeah, I'm sorry I missed it too," he said before a wide grin spread across his face. "My father told me you denied the bedding ceremony and took your bride to your chambers without an escort."

"There was an escort," Robb said defensively. Theon chuckled.

"A pair of direwolves do not count as an escort," he said. "It's just as well that Grey Wind is familiar with my scent." Robb glared at his friend then, and Theon looked away with a slight look of shame in his eyes.

"You didn't?" he asked in a stern tone, wondering if his friend had gone against his wishes and took some others to just outside his chambers when he and Cassana were consummating their marriage. Theon sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

"Just myself and a maid who got lost," he said. "We heard a noise that said maid had never heard before so we followed the sound, and as soon as I saw Grey Wind and Summer stood guard outside your room with Nymeria and Shaggydog I pulled the maid away. She was quite confused with why you two were so loud so I… took the liberty to explain to her what she had been hearing. Let's just say that she wasn't a maid by the time I was done with her." Benfred, who had been about to take a drink from a cup that was on the desk, snorted half the cup's contents up his nose and gasped for breath. When he cleared his airways he looked at Theon with a hint of disgust. "Oh come on Benfred, you should know me by now. I never can keep my breeches up whenever I see a pretty girl around."

"Makes me glad I never let you near my sister," he replied.

The three of them continued to talk for a few hours, during which they ate their dinner and discussed unimportant matters, before Robb sent Theon to go and see to the men that they had brought with them. Theon left them, hinting about getting a woman to keep him company for a short time. When Theon left Benfred stood up to leave as well before he stopped at the doorway and turned to look at Robb again.

"Is something on your mind Ben?" he asked. The young man nodded his head and sighed before he spoke.

"It's just… I've been wondering Robb," he began unsurely as he stepped closer to Robb. "You have given Theon command of a scouting party, along with the Smalljon and Robin Flint, yet you haven't given me a command. I'm just wondering why." Robb looked at his friend and stood up from his seat. He took a single step towards Benfred and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You're not ready for a command yet," he said. When Benfred looked ready to protest he continued. "Your father has brought you here to learn. I know you think that means being given a command of men and doing what you have been ordered to do, believe me that is exactly what I thought it meant too. I got away with it because I have fought and killed men before, and I am the heir to Winterfell. You will have heard of what happened last year with those pirates so I won't go over that story again, but I'll tell you now that it is not a simple case of being given however many men and marching to meet your opponent in glorious battle. When we take the field you will be beside me as part of my own personal guard." Benfred looked up at him in shock then.

"Personal guard?" he stammered. His face was contorted with confusion.

"When I led men into battle with those pirates I surrounded myself with several men, including Smalljon Umber, and Torrhen and Eddard Karstark," Robb told him. "Eddard died saving my life, as did a few other soldiers. Torrhen took a small wound to his arm while Smalljon got an arrow in the leg, just above his knee." Benfred looked away from Robb then, but after a moment he burst out laughing. "What?" Robb asked. Benfred calmed himself down before looking back at Robb.

"At least it wasn't an arrow _to_ the knee," he said. "I don't think he would've liked being married to a bloody pirate." Upon realising that Benfred was japing Robb started to laugh. He tried to not laugh, but failed miserably. They both laughed for a short while, Robb doubling over as he tried to calm himself down. When he was done laughing he sat back down. "Sorry Robb, I couldn't resist. And you were looking far too grim earlier," Benfred said while still chuckling. Robb gave him a grateful smile.

"I have plenty reason to be grim at the moment," he said as Benfred slowly stopped laughing. "Torrhen was killed while buying time for his sister to escape. Lady Alys came close to being raped by Bolton men before Ser Wendel arrived with his men. House Hornwood is gone…"

"Not quite Robb," Benfred interrupted. Robb looked at him, confused by his friend's words. Benfred must have realised that Robb was confused, so he explained. "My cousins mother if I remember rightly was Lord Hornwood's sister, which means my cousins have Hornwood blood." With that explanation Robb's eyes widened. _Of course_ , he thought. _How did I not realise that? The Hornwoods can survive through the female line_. Robb gave Benfred a kind smile before he stood up.

"We can deal with that once we have dealt with Snow, but you may have just helped to ensure that an old House will not fall into extinction," he said. Benfred gave Robb a small smile.

"Well, just proving my usefulness to you," he quipped. Robb smirked slightly.

"Well, you'll have plenty opportunities to be doing that," he told Benfred. "For now it's getting late, and I am in need of some sleep. Go get some rest Ben, we've got a long few days ahead of us. I'll see you on the morrow." Benfred bid Robb goodnight and made his way out. Robb walked in the opposite direction from him as he walked to the courtyard. Even though he could sleep inside the castle Robb decided that he would sleep in a tent just outside the walls with his men around him. He did not feel comfortable sleeping in Hornwood given what had happened there so many days ago. As Robb walked through the courtyard in the direction of his tent Grey Wind padded alongside him. A soldier ran up to them, slowing down as he got closer.

"Milord, your tent has been set up as per your request," he said.

"Good," Robb simply said. "Go and find Theon Greyjoy and tell him to meet with me."

"Yes milord," the soldier said with a slight bow. As the man ran off in search of Theon Robb walked past the various men as they huddled around the fires. The men of House Manderly had already garrisoned the castle so Robb was not going to force them out into the cold, even though he could rightly order them to do so. And as most of his own men were going to be sleeping outside he felt that he should do the same.

"Come along Grey Wind," Robb said as he entered his tent. He held the flap of the entrance open to let his massive companion in before he too entered.

Robb had been in his tent only five minutes when Theon entered. He had a slight flush to his face, indicating that he had just been with a camp follower. The Iron Islander grinned from ear to ear as he took a seat across from Robb.

"Gods you look so fucking miserable Robb," he said. "If I didn't know you better I'd have brought a girl in with me." Robb playfully shot a glare at Theon.

"You do that and I'll have your head on a spike quicker than you can jape," Robb said, making Theon laugh. "Laugh all you want Theon, it'll be preferable to what Cass will do to you," he said after a moment. Theon cleared his throat and looked serious for a moment.

"No thanks to either," he said. "I'm partial to living, and that wife of yours scares the hells out of me." The two of them laughed briefly before they calmed down. "Anyway Robb, what's going on that you couldn't wait until morning before speaking to me?" Robb took a deep breath before looking up at his friend.

"Just something that I need to clear up with you about the scouting," he stated, his voice serious to let Theon know he was not japing. Theon sat down on a seat across from Robb as he continued. "It'll be a few more days before our forces are ready to march, but I'll be sending the scouting parties out tomorrow. That means you'll be up early to break your fast and then you'll go off scouting." Theon groaned in annoyance at Robb's words.

"Up early, really?" Theon grumbled, making Robb smirk at his friend's expense.

"I know you'd rather be sleeping away, but we need to make sure that Ramsey Snow does not have any ambushes set up," Robb said. "I need you and the others to scout ahead and deal with any enemy scouts and sentries. Try and take the odd prisoner for questioning. Only kill if you are discovered or make your presence known to them. If you can't afford to send men back with prisoners then by all means kill them." Theon looked up at Robb sharply then.

"Kill prisoners? That doesn't seem honourable," Theon said snidely.

"It isn't, but we need to think practically here," Robb responded. "Prisoners should be taken, but we cannot always do the honourable thing during conflict if it means the difference between life and death." Saying that made Robb think back to last year; after dealing with the pirates and destroying their ships he took many prisoners, while several of his men said it was impractical and dangerous to take so many prisoners. Robb ignored those complaints and kept those prisoners alive, as he believed it to be the right thing to do, the honourable thing to do. The honourable path had led to eight of his men being killed when several pirates escaped their bonds. The pirates were recaptured, and Robb executed all of those pirates in anger. After that he had spoken with his father about what happened and what he did, and asked for what he should have done. His father responded by saying, " _Do what must be done at the time, but strive to do the honourable thing where possible during conflict. Always remember that what you do and what you order your men to do is on your conscience. You must learn to live with what you do, no matter what it was. You will learn as I have that sometimes the right path is not always the honourable path. What you do is your choice and your choice alone, and no matter what you must live with it the rest of your days._ " Those words have stayed with Robb since he spoke with his father about his actions. He decided that day that he would never again put the lives of his men at risk when there is no need. _Better to kill a dozen enemy soldiers than risk them escaping and killing my own men because I did not have the means to hold them securely_ , he thought.

"Seems fair enough to me," Theon said dismissively, drawing Robb back to their conversation. "So, how many men are you giving me to scout with?" Robb stood up from his seat and walked over to his satchel which was laying on his bed. He opened it up and pulled out a journal that held the numbers of men that he had brought with him. He had updated it two nights ago, and he would update it again after the next meeting with his lords and officers. Robb opened the journal and looked at the page with the up to date numbers. _Just under a thousand men, not counting the men who have joined us since the day before yesterday_ , he thought. He looked back to Theon who was still sat down.

"I'll give you thirty men to lead," he said. "Do not engage forces that your own group doesn't outnumber." Theon scoffed at Robb.

"Thirty men?" he said. "What the… we'll have a lot of ground to cover between here and the Dreadfort."

"Any more men would be far too many for scouting with," Robb said before Theon could get another word in. "And do not forget, you will not be the only group of scouts that I send out." Theon rolled his eyes as he stood up slowly from his seat.

"Of course, Smalljon and Flint will have their own bands. How many will they have?"

"Thirty men, each," Robb said sharply. As Theon turned around Robb continued. "I'll be sending more scouting parties over the next few days when we have more men available." Theon looked back at him and seemed to be thinking before his lips curved up into a small smile.

"My group and the other two get sent out tomorrow, and then a few days after that more groups get sent out to cover any ground that could be missed by us," Theon stated as if he was catching onto Robb's planning. Robb nodded his head in acknowledgement.

"When the second set of scouts has been sent out I'll march our forces to the Dreadfort at full strength," he said. "We should be at the Bolton's castle within the next twenty days. When you and the other scouts get there you are to draw Ramsey's men out to lure them away, and thin out their numbers. Make it look like you're bandits though, and not soldiers, or the bastard won't send anyone out. At the same time…"

"Scour the lands for any secret tunnel exits that could lead into the Dreadfort," Theon said. "I remember."

"Good," Robb said. "Now then, as we have got everything covered I suggest that you go and get some sleep. You'll need it." With that Theon nodded his head and made his way to leave the tent. Before he left Robb called out to him. When Theon turned around to face him he added, "And that's sleep, not spend all night bedding women, or you'll never be awake enough to ride out." Theon grinned again, that childish grin that made Robb want to roll his eyes as he knew that Theon would not listen.

"Oh don't be such a spoil sport Robb," he said. "Or would you like me to send a woman your way?" Robb just stared at him, his eyes serious and his face blank. "Okay, okay I'm going." When Theon finally left Robb let out a yawn. He turned to look around the inside of the tent. Grey Wind whimpered slightly, and Robb looked down at his faithful companion.

"I know Grey Wind, I miss her too," he said as he patted the direwolf on the head. Robb sat down on his bed and after a short time he lay down to get some sleep.

* * *

Cassana Stark

Cassana woke up feeling groggy and sore. Yesterday she had been doing her duties with Lady Catelyn, and she had not been practicing with her sword since Robb left for the Dreadfort. Right now she felt like she could sleep for longer, but she knew that she could not be complacent. She looked over to the windows and saw that the sun was only just beginning to rise. After thinking about it for a few minutes Cassana decided to rise out of her bed. It still felt unusual to wake up alone; she had gotten used to waking up beside Robb. Once she was dressed she summoned some servants and asked them to prepare a bath for her. An hour later she was entering the great hall, refreshed from her bath and wearing a blue and grey dress with some gold detailing along the sleeves and the hem of the skirt.

"Good morning Cassana," Catelyn said when she approached the table where her good-mother sat.

"Morning," Cassana replied. When she sat down the servants brought their breakfast. On the plate was bacon, eggs, sausages and bread fresh out of the oven. Little Rickon walked up to take the seat beside Cassana, with Shaggydog following behind him. The direwolf sat down next to him as he tucked into his breakfast. "No greeting for us?" Cassana teased as he chewed on his food. Rickon rolled his eyes and finished his mouthful.

"Morning mother, morning Cass," he said. The nine year old went back to eating, leaving Cassana and Catelyn to shake their heads while still smiling at the youngest Stark.

Cassana and her husband's family resumed eating, with Cassana not eating much of her food. She drank her cup of water to wash down the taste of her food, which did not agree with her this time. She normally loves bacon and sausages, but for the last few weeks the smell has left her grimacing and feeling unwell, while the taste was different than normal. It was clear to her that she was pregnant, but she still did not know if she should tell anyone else. As she left the hall to go about her duties Catelyn followed her and called out to her. She turned to see her good-mother walking swiftly to her.

"Are you alright?" Catelyn asked. Cassana smiled at her, hoping that she would not ask further.

"I'm fine my lady," she answered. Catelyn smiled back as she took her hands in her own.

"You can call me Cat when it's just family around," she said. "And please, I know the signs well enough myself." Cassana's smile dropped then, caught off by Catelyn's words. "I carried Robb in my womb for nine months, as well as the others after him. After five children I am pretty sure that I know these signs. Have you seen Luwin yet?" Not able to keep the truth from her any longer Cassana let out a deep sigh.

"I saw him before Robb left to deal with Ramsey Snow," she said. "I was meaning to go back to him but I want to wait until I am sure myself that I am with child and not just feeling unwell." Cassana bit her lip while Catelyn just gave her a warm smile.

"Well, perhaps we can go and see the good Maester just now and then I'll let you have today off to do as you want," she said. "You have been working far too hard recently, and you'll need to get some rest." Together the two of them walked off to find Luwin, who they found with the ravens. When they walked to him he looked up at them and smiled.

"My ladies," he said as he gave them a low bow. Cassana looked down at the old man's hands and noticed that he was holding a scroll with her father's royal seal. She raised her eyebrow at this.

"News from King's Landing?" she asked pointing at the scroll. Luwin gave her a small smile.

"Nothing to fret about my lady," he replied reassuringly. "It is probably about the tourney being held in honour of Lord Eddard's appointment as Hand." Cassana rolled her eyes. _Curse father and his love of bloody tourneys. Does he mean to bankrupt the Kingdoms_ , she thought. She watched as Catelyn took the scroll and broke the seal. She read it quickly before looking at Cassana.

"Just how many tourneys has the King held in recent years?" she asked.

"Too bloody many," Cassana answered with a huff. After shaking her head she looked back towards Luwin. "Anyway Maester Luwin, we are here because of what we last spoke about." Luwin looked at her before looking at Catelyn. After a moment he waved them to follow him into his chambers. A few minutes later the three of them were sat down in Luwin's room as he set up some tools that he would need to use.

"Any more bouts of sickness recently?" he asked her. Cassana shook her head in response. "Any pains around your body? Headaches?" Cassana looked at Catelyn who nodded her head in encouragement. She looked back at Luwin and then answered him.

"I have had some pain around my back and my," she coughed before carrying on, "breasts over the last few days." Cassana looked back at her good-mother, who just smiled at her. "I have also felt the need to be sick, but I haven't vomited at all recently, and I have felt more tired than normal." Luwin looked at Cassana and smiled at her.

"Yes, these are normal signs my lady," he said. "The pains are indeed normal, as is the tiredness. As for feeling sick and not vomiting there is nothing to be concerned with there. It is rare to not vomit so much during the first stages of pregnancy, and rarer still for a woman to never have morning sickness, but it has happened in the past. If you will permit me I can examine you to ascertain whether you are with child or not." Cassana slowly nodded her head, giving the Maester her permission.

Ten minutes later Cassana and Catelyn were walking out of the Maester's quarters, both women smiling at Luwin's confirmation of Cassana's pregnancy. The examination was brief, and Luwin gave them good news. Despite the good news Cassana could not help but feel a little nervous. Catelyn grasped her hand gently.

"I felt the same worries myself when I learned that I was carrying Robb," she explained as they walked back outside. They stopped by the balcony that overlooked the tiltyard and turned to watch Rickon as Ser Rodrik put him through his paces. "When will you tell Robb?" Catelyn asked her as they watched Rickon spar with the master-at-arms. "Will you wait for him to return or…"

"I spoke with him before he left and told him that I suspected that I was pregnant," Cassana answered quickly as she turned to face Catelyn. "There'll be no need for me to send word to him to confirm the news. We can wait for him to return. I doubt that he will be long." The sound of wood clashing wood made both women turn to look as Rickon circled Ser Rodrik, the older man praising Rickon on his parrying.

"The Dreadfort is a large castle Cassana," Catelyn said. "It has weathered many a siege over the thousands of years that it has stood. Robb will be hard pressed to storm it and reduce it to rubble."

"Maybe," Cassana replied as she watched Rickon lunge at Ser Rodrik, who stepped to the side and slashed at him. Rickon leant back just ever so slightly, dodging the blow that would have clipped his head, and swept his sword at Ser Rodrik's belly. The wooden blade hit the knight, and Ser Rodrik grunted at the unexpected blow.

"Good strike lad!" he yelled before launching a flurry of slashes that forced Rickon to step back. The youngest Stark jumped back, grinning like a madman before charging forward with a furious roar. He hacked at Ser Rodrik, aiming for his sword arm. The blunt edge of the wooden sword struck the master-at-arms across the wrist, not hard enough to break anything but hard enough to leave a bruise. Rickon followed up with a strike to the back of the leg, turning his blade at the last second so that the flat of the blade hit Ser Rodrik's leg. He hit with such force that the old master-at-arms was forced to his knees. Rickon then raised the sword and pressed the blade against Ser Rodrik's neck, bringing an end to that sparring session. "Very good lad, very good!" Ser Rodrik called out as he struggled to his feet, rubbing his wrist. Cassana smiled as she leant against the railing in front of her and saw from the corner of her eye that Catelyn looked at her youngest son with a proud smile on her face.

"Well fought Rickon," Catelyn called out to him. Rickon looked up to them and smiled widely at them.

After watching the sparring between Rickon and Ser Rodrik, Cassana went for a walk in the godswood, just to stretch her legs more than anything. She was accompanied by Ser Rodrik's daughter Beth Cassel, who has kept Cassana company whenever she was not with either Robb or Catelyn. The two young women wandered around the godswood, stopping at the weirwood so that Beth could quickly pray to the old gods. While Beth prayed Cassana read a letter that Luwin had given to her before she left his quarters. The letter was from Lady Maege Mormont, saying that she and her eldest daughter Lady Dacey were going to arrive at Winterfell later than originally planned due to the weather around the Bay of Ice that surrounds Bear Island making it harder to travel. Cassana was a little bit disappointed at this, but she could not fault the old She-bear for something beyond her control. As she finished reading the letter she thought back to her first meeting with Lady Maege and her daughter Dacey, and her failed attempt to make a friend out of the younger Mormont woman.

 _Cassana stood beside her father and brother as well as Robb and his father just as the Mormont women arrived. It was the first time that Cassana would meet the Ladies of Bear Island, and she was a little bit excited to meet them. Lady Maege dismounted her horse along with her daughter Dacey. Both women wore leather breeches and chainmail armour, each with a mace hooked to their belts. Lady Maege also had a sword sheathed at her hip. It was the day before the wedding, and Cassana was glad that the last of the guests had finally arrived._

 _"Your grace," Lady Maege greeted before she and her daughter each gave her father an elegant curtsey. "We were expecting Lord Stark to greet us and to be introduced to you later. It is good to greet you just now." Cassana's father barked out a laugh._

 _"It is good to see you again Lady Mormont," he said. "I was just taking a stroll with Ned when we heard the horn signalling your arrival, so I thought to greet you as well, and save you the trouble later." Lady Maege gave the King a smile, which softened her hard face. Her daughter Dacey stood beside her, her own face grim, but she held herself with dignity._

 _As the group walked into Winterfell to be introduced to the others, Cassana found herself walking beside Dacey. The woman was older than Robb, and had dark hair held in a warrior's ponytail. She seemed like a hard Northern woman, but other than that she seemed polite._

 _"So Lady Dacey," Cassana began in a bid to start conversation with her. "I have heard that you are quite skilled with a mace?" The younger Mormont woman looked at her and scoffed._

 _"I certainly do not wear this thing on my hip as a fashion statement my princess," she said a little bit harshly as she quickened her pace. Cassana was taken aback by the hostility. She took a deep breath and walked a little bit faster to keep up with her._

 _"I have to admit that I've always admired the women of your House," she said. "I have held an interest in combat myself." The Mormont woman looked at her with a look of suspicion in her eyes._

 _"Have you now?" Dacey asked. "And what do you know of fighting?"_

 _"I've beaten up boys older than me whenever they tried to insult me," Cassana answered. "I have given bruises to men who actually decided to humour me and let me fight them, such as Ser Barristan." At that Dacey seemed to take a bit more interest in Cassana._

 _"Is that so?" she stated. "Well, that sounds like the sort of tale to speak of over a cup of wine." Cassana smiled at her._

 _"It is, though I'd much prefer to have a drink of ale or mead," she responded. At this Lady Dacey gave Cassana a smile._

 _"Hmm, perhaps I was wrong about you," she stated._

 _A few hours later everyone had sat down for dinner, and both Mormont women entered the great hall wearing dresses, much to Cassana's surprise. Despite their reputation as warriors both women looked good in dresses. Lady Maege wore an old rugged brown dress that made her look like the lady that she is, while Dacey wore a dress of brown and green. Both had also let their hair down, Maege's greying hair just going past her shoulders while Dacey's hair went further down her back. As the hall filled with music and laughter Cassana found herself with Arya and Dacey._

 _"So as I stalked through the woods the wildlings decided to stop and answer a call of nature," she said as she recited a story to them of how she fought wildlings. "The poor fools had only just woken up, and were not yet fully awake, so it was easy for me and my two companions to deal with them. They spread out, and so the five idiots made our job so much easier. We attacked, splitting open the heads of two of them before the other three got their weapons ready. I fought this tall bearded fool with a pair of axes on his back and a long axe in his hands. He made bold proclamations of how he was going to give me the time of my life once he killed my friends and disarmed me, but he just kept swinging at me with that axe of his. I just kept standing back from him until he got the blade of his axe stuck in a tree after he swung for my head. As he tried to free his axe I struck my mace against his skull so hard my mace had a massive dent in it." Arya giggled, sitting with her chin on both of her hands while Cassana took a swig from her cup._

 _"I take it you gave him one hell of a headache?" Cassana asked. Dacey smiled at her._

 _"Well, all I'll say is that it took me hours to get the filth and blood out of my hair," she responded. The three of them sat beside each other for a bit longer before Arya decided to leave for her bed. When she left Cassana and Dacey spoke to each other about growing up in their respective homes. As they spoke they asked for some mead to drink while speaking._

 _"So yeah, Ser Barristan complimented my skills after I disarmed him for the third time in a row," Cassana said as she told her about her childhood learning how to fight. Dacey laughed at the story. "Of course my mother was furious when she found out. 'Princesses don't fight' she said. And I always told her, 'If the women folk of Bear Island can fight, then so can I'." Dacey let out an unladylike laugh that made Cassana smile._

 _"Gods that would've been impressive to watch," Dacey said. "So, I don't suppose you would be keen to spar with me after you and Robb are married?" Cassana looked at her and gave a quick nod._

 _"I certainly wouldn't mind," she said. "If nothing else it would be good exercise." Dacey snorted._

 _"Yeah well, we'll see how good you are the day after tomorrow."_

 _"Deal," Cassana said. This seemed to take Dacey by surprise. The Mormont woman leaned back as she raised her cup to her mouth._

 _"You seem rather brave, or perhaps foolish to want to match our skills against each other," Dacey stated. Cassana snorted before responding._

 _"You don't seem fond of us southerners," she said. Dacey's eyes widened slightly, and Cassana thought she saw her face blush a little bit, from shame or anger she did not know._

 _"It's not that I am not fond of southerners," she said. "I just find it hard to trust them. You saw my mother with a sword at her hip when we arrived?" Cassana nodded her head. "Well, that sword is Longclaw, House Mormont's ancestral sword. It was last held by my cousin, Ser Jorah, who brought shame to our name when he sold two poachers into slavery. He used the gold to please his wife. A slut from House Hightower." Cassana remembered hearing about the disgraced former Lord of Bear Island and what he did, but she did not know that he had been married to a Hightower. With that knowledge she now understood Dacey's earlier hostility._

 _"Well, I can see why you aren't trusting of us…" she began before Dacey cut her off._

 _"That Hightower bitch was Jorah's ruin. It's because of her that my cousin broke the laws of the North and the Seven Kingdoms. Because of her my cousin fled in disgrace, further shaming our House. He at least had the good sense to leave Longclaw behind." Cassana heard the hurt and anger in Dacey's voice as she spoke. Taking a long calming breath Cassana took Dacey's hand and gently pulled her from her thoughts._

 _"Don't let your first impression of us southerners get to you like that," she said. "Don't let that hate rule you. It'll destroy you otherwise." Dacey looked at Cassana for a few moments before standing up._

 _"I need some time alone my princess," she said before leaving the table where they had sat. As she watched the Mormont woman walk away Cassana felt that she might have said the wrong thing, and she felt awful for bringing up Dacey's painful memories._

Thinking about her first meeting with Dacey Mormont left Cassana feeling sad. In the end they did not get their sparring session, which left her feeling a little bit upset. She felt that her attempts to make a friend out of the heir to Bear Island had been wasted. As she shook her head she noticed Beth standing up, obviously finished with her prayers. They continued to walk through the godswood, chatting away before heading back to the main keep.

Cassana made her way to her and Robb's room and got changed into a thicker velvet dress to keep her warm during the evening. As she changed she looked into her wardrobe and saw her longsword sheathed in its scabbard leaning in the corner. _That's one less thing that I'll be allowed to do_ , she thought with some bitterness. She ran her fingers over the sword's hilt before closing her wardrobe and leaving the room. She made her way down to the great hall for dinner, where she found Catelyn and Rickon sat down talking. Shaggydog padded over to Cassana and whined at her.

"Oh seven hells boy," she muttered as she stroked his fur. "You know you are nowhere near as adorable as Grey Wind is." Shaggydog gave a louder whine at her words, which made her laugh.

"Shaggydog, leave Cass be," Rickon said, stomping over to the direwolf and grabbing him by the scruff. The black furred beast would normally growl at anyone who grabbed him like that, but with Rickon he just grunted and followed his master dutifully. Cassana laughed at the sight as she resumed her walk to the table. Once she was sat down she turned to Catelyn.

"Everything go okay?" she asked quietly. Catelyn nodded as the servants put their dinner on the table before them.

"All of the numbers add up," Catelyn said. "The taxes from the outlying holdfasts have been paid properly. We just have to wait for the conflict with the Dreadfort to end and then we'll get to worrying about the other taxes soon after." Both women began to cut up their meat as their drinks were served.

"No wine for me thanks, I'll just have some water," Cassana said to the servant who was about to pour her drink for her.

"Of course milady," the servant replied before going off to find a pitcher of water.

"So, our treasury is slowly being replenished, which the taxes will go a long way to helping out. Our stockpiles of food are steady, just over half of the larders are empty, but that can be sorted now that we're in spring. So, not much to worry about, except making sure that everything stays the same," Cassana said to Catelyn while she chewed on her meat. Catelyn nodded her head as Cassana put a piece of her food into her mouth and began to chew. The food tasted normal this time, which Cassana was thankful for. The servant returned with the water and filled her cup up. "Thank you," she said to the servant.

"I admit that I am not fond of such tasks, but it helps with running the land and the castle," Catelyn said. "I do believe that more ladies should take their duties more seriously. It goes a long way to securing a House's standing I think."

"I agree," Cassana replied slowly, wondering why Catelyn was speaking of this. "I believe that there should be time to enjoy yourself, but at the same time we should always take our duties seriously. What makes you bring up such a topic at dinner?" Catelyn took a sip of her wine before setting her cup down.

"I worry for Arya," she said. "You seem to have found the right balance with yourself in regards to your interests and your duties, but Arya has always been free spirited." Cassana sat up straighter in her seat before leaning closer to Catelyn.

"You worry for her because she has always been like that and does not seem to want to change," she stated. One look at Catelyn's eyes though told Cassana that there was more to it than that. "Or are you worried because of the fact that she is now in the capitol?" Catelyn looked back to her and nodded her head.

"Yes," she answered. Cassana took a deep breath before taking another mouthful of her dinner. "I have never had to worry about Sansa so much, but Arya has always wanted to do things that you would normally associate the women of House Mormont doing." Cassana brought her cup of water to her lips to hide the slight smirk that she had. "Granted, she is not as she used to be when she was still a child yet to see her tenth nameday, but her attitude remains. She takes a dim look at marriage and the duties and responsibilities of being a lady, only seeing it as being trapped by a man who will only wish to bed her and put sons in her, as she once said."

"I do believe that Arya doesn't have that dim a view on marriage," Cassana began. "She told me and Sansa that she would marry a man who would respect her and let her be who she is. By that I'm sure she meant being with a man who would let her continue to practice with her swordsmanship and her horse riding." Catelyn looked at Cassana and shook her head ever so slightly.

"You do remember what your father said a few days after you all arrived?" she asked her. Cassana nodded after thinking about it for a minute.

"That there would be no betrothals forced upon either of them?" she asked, to which Catelyn nodded her head.

"That was agreed upon as Ned and I felt that would be the only way to persuade the girls to go south," she started. "If that little fact was not said then Arya would have raised an awful fuss and eventually she would outright refuse to travel south. It was a necessary compromise to get Arya to agree to go south. That is how things are with her. To get Arya to agree to do anything you need to make compromises, and those compromises usually end up in her favour." Cassana shrugged her shoulders before picking up a piece of meat with her fork.

"And that is a bad thing?" she asked before putting the meat into her mouth. She chewed on it as she looked at Catelyn, who looked startled at such a question.

"Compromising only gets an outcome that Arya wants," Catelyn replied. "She needs to learn that that is not how the world works, and that is why I worry for her. I fear that one day she will put herself in a position that could lead her to pain, or worse…" Catelyn trailed off, and Cassana now realised where her worries were coming from. After she finished chewing on her food Cassana clasped her hands together and rested her chin on them.

"Arya will learn that lesson Cat," she said quietly so no one would overhear them. "But I can promise you that as long as Silas and Lukas are nearby she won't learn such a lesson the way you fear she will." Catelyn looked back at her and gave her a small smile. "Anyway, in regards to the whole marriage idea, you'll be surprised at the few men that I know who would allow Arya her freedoms," she said to lead the discussion away from anything grim. Catelyn looked at her with a thoughtful look.

"And who would take a wife who loves to practice with a sword rather than do needlework?" the older woman asked.

"Well to start with, there is Joffrey's sworn shield, Sandor Clegane, who likes a woman who can fight, but of course with his age such a match would not likely happen," Cassana said, noting how Catelyn's eyes nearly bulged out of her eye sockets at the mere suggestion of Arya marrying the Hound. "Also, there is Lord Bryce Caron, who is the last of his House after a sickness claimed them during the last spring. The Carons are an old family sworn to Storms End, they hold the title Lord of the Marches, and are a prominent family, so that would make a good match, and I doubt Lord Bryce would argue with taking Arya as a wife, despite her skills with a sword." Catelyn seemed thoughtful over that suggestion. Cassana continued before Catelyn could speak. "We also have my Uncle Stannis's squire, young Devan Seaworth, who is only two years older than Arya. He is young, with nothing to inherit, but his older brothers are all married. He is good with a sword, and I do believe that he had a crush on Lady Brienne of Tarth, who is known to be quite a skilled swordswoman." Catelyn shook her head quickly at that suggestion.

"Young Devan is a son of Ser Davos Seaworth, who was born a commoner and lived for many years as a smuggler," she said. "I am not comfortable with the idea of Arya marrying someone with such a background. Lord Bryce on the other hand may be older but he is of far more noble blood than young Devan. But still, such men would have to meet Arya and judge her for themselves. Or more likely be judged by her." Cassana smirked at Catelyn's apprehension.

"There is another man I know who would not be bothered by Arya's behaviour," she said, and she noticed that Catelyn looked interested. "My brother," she said as Catelyn was bringing her cup of wine to her mouth. Catelyn's eyes widened at that and she nearly spilled her wine. Cassana smiled as she sat up straighter in her seat. "Silas would allow Arya to be her own person. Growing up with him, Silas not once tried to stop me learning how to fight, but instead encouraged me to practice, as did our father. He would give Arya such freedoms, but he would also do his utmost to make Arya understand how and why she must behave suitably."

"Yes I'm sure he would Cassana but still," Catelyn said, pausing to think on what she just heard. "Arya would not make a good queen I think." Cassana rolled her eyes at Catelyn's words.

"How many Mormont women were Queens of the North before the Targaryen Conquest?" Cassana retorted. Catelyn opened her mouth to argue but she stopped herself. Knowing that her good-mother could not think of an answer Cassana continued. "Truth be told I have no idea myself, but I'm sure that there would've been a few Mormont ladies that were married to Starks in the past, and I'm sure one or two would've been queens as well. And don't they say that the She-bears of Bear Island always learn how to fight?" Catelyn looked thoughtful for a moment before she sighed.

"Still, this is such a worry for me," she said, and Cassana wondered if her thoughts were returning to their previous discussion.

"Then do not worry over it," she said simply. "Besides, they are south of the Neck, and we are north of it. I'm sure Lord Eddard and the others will look after her." Catelyn looked at her for a time before returning to her dinner, her facial expression neutral; Cassana was hopeful that she would stop worrying over her youngest daughter.

After they had finished their dinner they all retired for the night. Cassana bid Catelyn and Rickon goodnight before walking towards her own room. She entered the room and sat down on the end of the bed, stretching her arms as she sat down and yawned. She sat there for some time before standing up and removing her dress. As she undressed she stood in front of the mirror in the corner and looked at her reflection. Her belly was a little bit larger than it was before she had come north with her family, but other than that there was no clear indication that she was pregnant. Cassana smiled to herself as she turned away from the mirror and pulled on a nightdress. Once the gown was on she climbed into bed and picked up a book that she had been reading over the last few nights from her bedside table. As much as she missed Robb she was a little bit grateful that she had some peace and quiet as it meant that she could actually read the books that she wanted to. Aside from swordplay Cassana has always loved to read, and she was not too fussy on what she wanted to read, although she did prefer history and tales of fighting and pirates, much like her cousin Shireen. She sat in the bed and lay the heavy book on her lap, her thoughts drifting to her husband. She thought about his auburn hair and beard, and how it would tickle her belly and thighs whenever he kissed her in those places that always sent jolts of pleasure through her; she thought about his blue eyes which she just loved to gaze into; she thought about the feel of his manhood when he made love to her, and the warmth she felt whenever he spilled his seed into her. She smiled as she remembered her wedding night, when Robb gave her pleasure with his mouth. _That's something I'll have to do when Robb gets back_ , she thought with a wide grin before she opened her book.

* * *

Theon Greyjoy

 _Finally, some action_ , Theon thought to himself as he saw the eight Bolton men a dozen or so yards through the trees. It has been three days since Robb sent him off with his thirty men to scout ahead of the army that was gathering at Hornwood. Theon led his men directly north-east while Smalljon and Flint led theirs north and east respectively. Those two would lead their men for a set distance before heading in the direction of the Dreadfort. For the last three days Theon had not seen a single Bolton soldier, which had unnerved him to begin with. All they had seen was the odd village here and there, and on one occasion they came across a butchered caravan; a merchant no doubt, and his family. The man had been hung upside down, but his whole upper body had been flayed, which made Theon feel sick. The merchant had a young woman with him as well as two boys. The boys were lying in the dirt, their throats slit ear to ear, but the young woman was hanging from a tree branch with a noose around her neck. Her skin was deathly pale, with bruises showing on her arms and legs. Her light brown hair was ragged, and her lifeless eyes stared out. What was worse was that she was naked and had dried blood between her thighs, which meant only one thing. Theon had cut her down and laid her down beside the bodies of her family, and ordered the men to search the caravan's remains. As he suspected there was nothing of any value left, meaning that they had been robbed. After covering the woman's body with a torn cloak that he had found, Theon had ordered his men onwards. That had been yesterday; now they were watching a group of men as they laughed away. Theon gripped his bow and drew an arrow before he snuck forward, his men quietly advancing with him.

"… and I tell you, that little girl, fuck me was she a screamer," one of the Bolton men said, earning some laughter from his comrades. Theon's anger began to rise as he realised that he had found the men responsible for the carnage he had found yesterday.

"Aye, and nice and tight too," another said. "Just a shame that Ramsey wanted us to kill 'er instead of take 'er with us. We could do with more like that at the Dreadfort." The Bolton soldiers laughed. Theon looked at the eight men, and saw that they were all wearing the usual gambesons that were worn in the North. Three of them were stood with their spears held ready, while a fourth had his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The other four just sat around the campfire that had given them away to Theon and his men.

"We really should get going fellas," a Bolton soldier said as Theon knocked his arrow and raised his bow, aiming for one of the spearmen.

"Nah, we're fine lad," another said before spitting out phlegm. "Ramsey told us ta stay 'ere anyway. What Ramsey tells us ta do, we do. I don't fancy going out like that poor fucker he flayed the other day, the one whose girl we all fucked bloody." As the men murmured their agreement Theon loosed off his arrow. The arrow flew towards the spearman who had wandered away from the other seven men. He was out of sight from the rest, and as Theon's arrow pierced his throat and opened his windpipe he started to fall. It was just lucky for Theon's group that one of the other Bolton men had coughed loudly when the dying man hit the ground.

"Still, I would've liked to have had her again," one man said. As they spoke Theon knocked another arrow and drew the bowstring back, this time aiming for the man resting his hand on his sword's hilt. He loosed the arrow off and watched as it sailed through the air and sank into the swordsman's eye, plunging into his brain. That man's head jerked back before his body dropped like a stone.

"What the fuck was that?" one of the surviving six said, standing up and reaching for a dagger that he had strapped to his belt. The swordsman was stood at the edge of the group by a rock, and was also out of their line of sight. Theon smiled savagely as the men began to look around in panic. One of the other spearmen held his weapon in both hands, ready to lunge at whoever showed themselves. Theon knocked a third arrow and took aim at that spearman, loosing off after adjusting his aim.

"Someone is out the…" that man began, but Theon's arrow cut him off as it hit him in the chest, piercing the gambeson before punching out the man's back, such was the distance between Theon and his third target.

"SHIT!" someone yelled before Theon's men charged in, roaring as they raised their swords. Theon moved as well, drawing another arrow just in case. He was trained with a sword, but he was always a better archer than a swordsman.

The five surviving Bolton men did not stand a chance against Theon's scouting group. Two died quickly, their bellies ruptured by multiple sword blades. The other three put up a fight, but it was a short fight; one of them managed to wound a man before he was brought down by a sword slicing his right calf as a second plunged into his chest and tore out of his back, while another hacked an axe at the shield of one of Theon's men and was cut in half across his belly, his guts spraying violently across the ground. When only one man was left he found himself facing many Stark men. Theon smirked as he emerged from the trees that he had been hiding within. The man threw his sword down, turned around and bolted away from them, which Theon was expecting him to do. He drew his arrow back and aimed for his leg, and then he loosed his arrow. A moment later the man screamed like a stuck pig as Theon's shot proved true; the arrow had embedded itself into the back of the man's thigh.

"Good shot Greyjoy," one of his men said to him. Theon ran to the wounded Bolton man who had now dropped to his knees, moaning in pain as blood dribbled from the wound.

"That looks uncomfortable," Theon quipped as he stepped in front of the man, who glared up at him.

"Go fuck yourself you Stark loving cunt," he responded. Theon shook his head.

"Now that's not very polite, is it?" he stated in a mocking tone. "Anyway, if you want to live, you had better tell me how to get into the Dreadfort." The man laughed before spitting at Theon's boot.

"I SAID GO FUCK YOURSELF YOU…" he was interrupted when Theon punched him in the face. The man spat out a loosened tooth mixed with phlegm and blood.

"I heard you the first time," Theon said. "Dreadfort. How to get into. Secret entrances. Escape passages. Need to know. Now." The man glared at Theon before spitting into his face. Theon wiped the blood and muck away before kicking him in the gut. "Do I have to rip your fucking balls off you raping shit?" Theon yelled. Other men were now gathered.

"Let's just finish him off Greyjoy," one of Theon's men said. "The man won't talk no matter what you do or say." Theon looked at the man before looking back down at the wounded Bolton soldier. The scum grinned at him, blood staining his teeth.

"We'll kill him in a minute," Theon said. "But first, we geld him." Theon pulled out his dagger and pointed it at the man. "Hold him down and pull his breeches off," he said to the men. A couple of them looked at each other, unsure of what to do. When Theon glared at them they grabbed the man and held him still while two others pulled his breeches down. Realising that he was not making an empty threat the man started to panic.

"Wait, wait WAIT!" he cried out. Theon pulled the man's breeches all the way down, snapping off the shaft of his arrow as he did, which made the man cry out in pain.

"No, you had your chance," he said as he brought his dagger to the man's member.

"I KNOW OF A PASSAGE!" the man quickly shouted, which halted Theon. He looked up at the man and pulled his dagger away from him.

"Go on," he said. The man squirmed as Theon's men released him.

"When you approach the Dreadfort's main gate, send men around to the opposite side of the castle," he began. "The wall on the opposite side of the gate, there you'll find an old disused gate. Face away from the Dreadfort and go into the woods in that direction. Walk for thirty yards then turn north and walk until you come across an old burnt down shack. Face the Dreadfort and then walk for twenty yards, then you'll see some rocks. There you'll find an old wooden trap door, that opens up to lead you into an old passage that leads into the Dreadfort's old torture chambers. I've used it several times to…" The man trailed off then. Theon leaned in and prodded the man with his dagger.

"Yes, to do what?" he asked. The man gulped.

"To drag out the bodies of women that Ramsey has had his fun with," he said. Theon looked away from the man and stood up, sheathing his dagger. He took a deep breath and then he turned to face one of the men under his command, an ugly fellow called Bert.

"Bert, take five men and take this man to Lord Robb," he said to him. "Keep the shit alive and make sure he tells Robb and the other lords what he has just told us. Should any of his friends come running along, kill him. Otherwise Robb will decide what to do with him after he has told him of this passage." Bert nodded his head.

"Got it Greyjoy," he said. "I'll get 'im back to Lord Stark in one piece. Well, so long as he don't give me a reason to stick me sword up 'is arse." Theon looked back down to the man.

"You hear that cur? You're going to be taken to Lord Stark, and you will tell him what you just told us. Understood?" The man nodded his head as he pulled his breeches back up. After a moment he was stood up by some of the others and put in irons. Bert got his men ready and made ready to leave. Theon grabbed his arm before he walked off. "If he dies or you have to kill him, go to Lord Robb anyway and let him know what he told us." Bert nodded his head.

"Don't ye worry laddie," he said. "I've done this sort of thing before. I'll get us back there soon, you just worry about keeping that kinslaying bugger occupied."

After a few minutes spent wrapping a makeshift bandage around the man's wounded leg Bert and his small group left with their horses, guiding the prisoner along with them. Theon turned to his men and got them to rest up. They spent the night at the Bolton campsite, some men sleeping while others took watch. The following morning the scouting party rose up and began to pack up their supplies. As they did Theon sat down with a couple of the men who were appointed as Theon's second-in-command's. The three of them planned their next moves, deciding where to go and what route to take. After they were done talking Theon stood up and walked into the woods to relieve himself. He was there for a couple of minutes when he heard a twig snap behind him.

"Can't a man piss in peace?" he snapped. As he turned around he saw an object meet his face, and then everything went black.

When Theon came to he felt heavy iron manacles around his wrists. He shook his head to clear the distant buzzing sounds that he heard, and his head felt like it was going to burst. When he looked up he saw his men were all either lying dead or being tortured to death by Bolton men, of which there were dozens. The enemy stood around him, all glaring down at him. Theon heard someone screaming in pain just ahead of him. He looked up and saw a man with his back to him, and in front of that man was another who was screaming. It was one of Theon's men, and when the torturer stepped away Theon saw the bloody mess that was his chest. The man was being flayed. The torturer walked over to Theon, turning to face one of his men.

"Throw some salt at his chest," he said. The man gleefully did as he was ordered, and Theon's man screamed louder. "So, the Young Wolf sends out a scout party to make his trip to my home secure and safe. Well, it's not so safe is it?" the man said. In that moment Theon realises who has captured him. "So, Robb fucking Stark sends twenty-five men to scout ahead of his forces, but he sends his father's ward to lead them. That was pretty stupid of him, wouldn't you agree Theon Greyjoy," the bastard says with a sick smile. Theon looks up at him. "I must say that I expected more than this sorry lot, but well. What can you do?" Ramsey Snow gave a sickening laugh as Theon looked away. As he was held there he realised that Ramsey was speaking of twenty-five men and not thirty. Theon smirked despite the situation he was in, realising that Bert and his group have not been found.

"Ramsey," a voice called out. Theon turned to face the source of the shout and saw a tall man walking over. "We just found some tracks in the snow heading in the direction of Hornwood. About half a dozen or so. Should we send some men after them?" Theon felt a lump form in his throat. He hoped that Bert would not stop more than necessary in travelling to Robb. If Ramsey's men caught them then the knowledge of the passage would not be given to Robb. Theon looked back up at Ramsey and noticed that he was looking right at him. The bastard was smirking at him.

"No, don't bother," he said slowly. "Let them come to us. We can deal with anything they send our way." Theon was a little bit relieved at that, but it still shocked him how arrogant Ramsey Snow was. _He thinks he's invincible. He thinks he can survive the wrath of the North which is now firmly against him. He's a mad man_ , Theon thinks to himself. "Oh you think I am just sitting around waiting for my death. No," Ramsey said as he walked closer to him. He leant down and then whispered into his ear. "I don't care if the Dreadfort falls. I'll be out of there and on my way to Winterfell when that old castle falls. And when I do I'll claim my real prize; Cassana Baratheon. Or Stark if you prefer. If she's as good as they say I'll even keep her from the hundred men that I'll be taking with me to take Winterfell." Theon's eyes widened with horror at that statement.

"You'll never take Winterfell Snow," Theon said as the bastard stood up from him. "It's impossible." Ramsey smiled at Theon.

"Why do you think I kept you alive?" he said in that sickening sadistic voice of his.

"You'll never make me talk bastard," Theon spat out. At that Ramsey's face contorted into a look of anger and then he punched Theon in the face. Theon tasted blood in his mouth as his head was viciously pulled up. Ramsey Snow glared at him for a few moments before that sick smile was back.

"Oh you will talk," he said. "And squeal, and beg, and whine and whimper. But in the end you will talk. Everyone does."

* * *

 **AN:** Hmm, things got pretty bad here for poor Theon. What, you didn't think I was going to be nice to him here, did you? Oh, you did? Oh, ummm (stepping away as quickly as possible to avoid the wrath of the Theon fangirls).

Next chapter we will get a look at what is going on with Slynt and co. Also Robb and his allies will arrive at the Dreadfort. The battle will not be until the chapter after next one (at the earliest, I may end up doing another chapter away from the North, we'll see what happens).

Until next time people.


End file.
